


O! I am Fortunes Fool!

by Snow_Glory



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Athos has a kid, Athos is just so supportive of his friends, Broken Bones, Counsellor!d'Artagnan, D'Artagnan breaks INTO jail, Detective!Athos, Detective!Porthos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Geographical Inaccuracies, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt Aramis, Hurt Porthos, Hurt d'Artagnan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Minor Character Death, Nurse!Aramis, Portamis - Freeform, Savoy, Swearing, They are boyfriends, Trauma, Very tame Portamis, but mostly hurt Aramis, but they spend most of the story apart?, poor construction of medical devices - namely wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 106,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Glory/pseuds/Snow_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Aramis is abducted, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan are frantic to find their friend. But in trying to recover Aramis, they find out he isn't who he's supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. March 9, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos and Captain Treville

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrified to post this. It's not done, it's close, but not complete yet. I always said I would finish something before I posted it, but it has at least 12 post-able chapters... so why not right? Since this story isn't complete, and while I promise it will be finished, I am going to aim for posting about once a week. 
> 
> Blanket warning: This is Portamis, but it's incredibly tame. Lots of hugging and calling each other boyfriend and such, but you'll quickly see why nothing more R rated has happened. 
> 
> I have to thank Tazzyjan, Canadian Garrison, Vera d'Auriac and Knights-and-Musketeers for being my cheerleaders. I also have to thank someone who didn't want to be mentioned, but who pesters me constantly for more. You know who you are.
> 
> This whole thing wouldn't have existed if not for ihadenoughofthis She flat out refused to write this idea for me and I was forced to do it myself. This is your fault, Nadia... 
> 
> Italics denotes a memory.

**March 9, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos and Captain Treville**

It was the stuff of nightmares watching your boyfriend get jabbed in the neck with a tranquillizer dart, and get dragged out of the local hospital wearing scrubs with fluffy bunnies all over them.

There was no sound on the surveillance video, and Porthos felt as though he was watching one of those old silent movies, only there were no subtitles to help the detectives understand what was going on. Athos, Porthos and Treville had ensconced themselves in his large office and had watched the video over and over looking for clues.

Every time they started the video from the beginning Porthos hoped it would end differently. He prayed he wouldn’t see his lover slam through the emergency doors or yank on the emergency sprinkler system lever, and most of all that Aramis wouldn’t stop dead shortly after, seeing what was waiting in front of him. Porthos watched wishing that the entire emergency room wasn’t on fire and that there were not several men dressed all in black, slowly surrounding Aramis.

Porthos clenched his fists in anger as his boyfriend, once again, glanced quickly at the cameras mounted on the wall, pure unadulterated fear sparkling in his eyes.

When they had first heard the news of the hospital on fire Porthos had been worried for his boyfriend. The particular precinct that Athos and Porthos worked at wasn’t in the area of the hospital, so they hadn’t been called upon to help in the investigation. Instead, the remaining officers that weren’t on patrol had gathered around to watch the news broadcast on the event. The news had reported that there were no casualties and Porthos had breathed a sigh of relief, retreating to his office to check his phone for any incoming messages from Aramis. He hadn’t even reached his office when his captain, Treville, had raced out of his office and pulled both Athos and himself in.

It was behind closed doors that Treville explained that the local police were reporting an abduction of one of the hospital’s nurses. And to Porthos’ growing dread, that particular nurse that was missing was his long-time boyfriend, Aramis. Treville had pulled some strings and had gotten a copy of the surveillance video en route to their office.

When he saw the video Porthos’ first comment had been that he hadn’t remembered Aramis grabbing those particular scrubs that morning. Athos had just stared at him worried until the situation had permeated into his brain and that is when the real panic began. Porthos had all but quit his job in his attempt to get to the hospital, intent on reaching Aramis. Treville, the precinct’s Captain, had closed the door to the office and sat Porthos down, and threatened to lock his detective up if he wouldn’t calm down.

Porthos sighed and leant back against his Captain’s desk. Treville was seated on the other side of the table watching the video alongside Athos, looking for any clue to aid them in finding their missing Aramis. Treville had been with the police force a long time and Porthos knew that it was just as upsetting that Aramis had been abducted to Treville as the rest them. Aramis looked to Treville as a surrogate father ever since he lost his own years ago and could often be found visiting the precinct between shifts at the hospital.

“Rewind that one part again Athos, please,” Treville asked.

“Did you see something sir?” Athos responded, rewinding the video a couple of frames.

Porthos drowned out Treville's response, staring intently at the screen. While his two colleagues were looking for clues about what was going on, Porthos was watching Aramis' every move and expression.

“He's terrified,” Porthos whispered. “Look! You can see his hands shaking there, and his eyes... they dart around the room frantically. Aramis... he doesn't like enclosed spaces. Those guys are surrounding him and he is panicking.”

Athos pressed pause on the video and set the remote down in front of Treville. He moved forward and took Porthos into his arms, hugging him tightly, “We will find him Porthos, of that I am sure.”

“They are speaking to him Athos. They are wearing masks, but you can see their body language and they are speaking to him, see? Right there!” Porthos pointed to the screen. “He is shaking his head no. What do you think they said to him?”

Athos and Porthos had been partners in the police force for seven years, starting out as beat cops and moving up the proverbial ladder swiftly to become detectives. The two of them combined had solved more cases than any other team and were one of the best detective teams at this specific precinct. If there was anyone better for the task of finding a missing person, it would be these two.

“Do you think this is related to our killer Athos?” Porthos asked.

For the past three months, a man or woman had been systematically murdering people and setting buildings on fire. The only similarities the two detectives had managed to find were the sex of the victims and the manner in which they were killed. The victims were all woman, all about 25 years of age and they all died by their throats cut open. They also were always found dead outside of a building as it burned to the ground. Sometimes the building had significant meaning to the deceased, sometimes not. Beyond that, the two detectives hadn't managed to link any of the victims to one another and hadn't managed to identify the killer. It was a case that had consumed the two detectives and often kept them at the precinct late at nights and through entire weekends. This morning had been the first time Porthos had been home long enough to have a conversation with Aramis, instead of swift kisses on the cheek as his boyfriend slept.

Porthos was shaking slightly in Athos’ arms and his voice was extremely strained and he knew that the two of them were way too close to this case, and he wondered if Treville would pull them off it.

As if reading Porthos’ mind, Treville walked around from behind his desk and pulled him out of Athos' arms and turned him around to face him. He gripped the man's shoulders firmly and sighed. “I am going to allow you both to look for Aramis. Something about his abduction and the fire set to the hospital rings familiar to me. Both of you look into similarities of our current arsons and murders and see if anything correlates. I will continue to analyse this video for clues; report to me as soon as you find anything.”

Porthos nodded, steeling himself for the research that was impending and Athos smiled grimly.

“What do you think Athos?” Porthos voiced his concern again, as he was ushered out of the Captain's office and down the hallway towards the conference rooms. “Do you think it could be our killer?”

Athos sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which was getting too long again, “I don't know my friend, but... honestly? Aramis isn't the right age or the correct gender, and this whole thing doesn't fit the profile of our serial killer. The arson fits, but no one was killed today, plus our killer has never abducted anyone. This sounds like a whole new person, possibly with some link to Aramis, because I don’t think it was random. Like you said, they had a conversation with Aramis first before shooting him with that tranquillizer dart.”

“Not what I wanted to hear,” Porthos growled menacingly, clenching his fists. Athos watched him stalk towards the conference room door and wrench it open.

“Porthos, we don't want this to be the same person! Everyone else from that case had ended up dead within hours.”

“I will find him Athos, I refuse to find my best friend, my boyfri--” He paused with a choked cry. “... dead on some steps, bled out from the neck, not knowing what he really means to me.”

Athos rushed forward and pulled a chair out for Porthos to collapse into and pressed his hands into his partner’s shoulders. “I am almost positive this isn’t the same person Porthos.You can’t panic over Aramis dying like our other victims. This feels different.”

Porthos took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, “I lied to you about our fight this morning Athos-- we broke up. He left me and I think it's for good this time. I just need to find him; those things we said can’t be the last things we ever say to each other.” He swiped at the tears that had gathered in his eyes and nodded to Athos.

“He knows how much he means to you Porthos. What he needs right now isn’t our panic or pity, he needs our strength and our determination to find him!”

“I forget you've known him as long as I have. Help me find our friend then?”

Athos nodded and settled on the floor amidst the file boxes that were strewn about the room. “I know we've gone through these a million times, but let's start at square one again? At least, they are highly organised so it should be fairly quick.”

  


**_March 9, 2016 - Aramis and Porthos’ house - The Breakup_ **

 

“ _Aramis...” Porthos whined. He knew he sounded like a child pouting when he didn't get what he wanted, but he didn't care. “I never see you anymore.”_

_He dodged to the side, flailing Aramis' shirt high above his boyfriend's head as the younger man launched himself, trying to reach his item of clothing._

“ _And whose fault is that? Have mercy Porthos, please. I am going to be late for work!”_

_Aramis was a paediatric nurse at the local hospital, He’d been at that hospital since he graduated from the nursing program at the neighbouring town’s University. He’d chosen to specialise in paediatrics after his bachelor’s degree and worked both at the hospital and took extra courses at the University. He’d already been a paediatrics nurse for two years when Porthos had met him._

“ _Skip work.”_

“ _No.”_

“ _I won't give you your scrubs.”_

_Porthos loved teasing Aramis. His boyfriend was so easy to rile, ornery as a cat, clingy as a kitten; Aramis would run through a range of emotions, begging and pleading, and would usually resort to using his charm to get at whatever Porthos was withholding. It usually ended with them wrestling for whatever they were battling over and both of them having forgotten what the initial argument was about._

_Not today, though..._

_Today, Porthos was frustrated and wanted attention, and Aramis was in a foul mood and unwilling to play along._

_Aramis scowled and huffed, shoulders drooping in what Porthos assumed was defeat. “I don't understand what your deal is...” The half-naked man stopped trying to wrestle his shirt from Porthos' grip and wandered to the dresser drawers, pulling out a long sleeve black shirt. He slipped it over his head and pulled it on and then grabbed another scrub shirt from the drawer below, pulling that on as well. “It's not as though you have been around. I've hardly seen you in three months. I am tired of spending the nights alone, so I signed up for extra shifts at the hospital. What gives with your attitude today?”_

“ _You spend more time with d’Artagnan than you do with me.”_

_It was while Aramis was taking one of his classes at the University, that he met d’Artagnan, a young man completing his Masters to become a counsellor. When they both graduated, d’Artagnan had followed Aramis and become the patient counsellor for the hospital. Athos and Porthos had met Aramis and d’Artagnan when responding to a 911 call at a nearby coffee house. There had been an altercation between two men outside of the coffee house, ending when the one man had shot the other. When both Athos and Porthos arrived, they’d been impressed by the young nurse trying to save the victim's life, but had quickly lost sight of him in the hustle and bustle of the scene and arriving emergency teams._

_It was a couple of days later when Athos, having had enough of Porthos’ pining over some unknown guy, had broken policies and procedures and ran a search on the young nurse through the police database. Porthos hadn’t expected Athos to find much but was surprised when it brought up a sealed file of an event that happened a couple of years before. Due to the file being sealed by the courts Porthos was only able to find out that the man, Aramis, had been the first responder at a mass murder in which there were no survivors. Thankfully the file still contained the nurse’s most recent contact information, but before Porthos could work up the nerve to contact the man, Aramis had shown up at the precinct looking for Treville. Porthos would always label it as fate afterwards, the chance meeting between Aramis and himself. They’d gone out on a single date and hadn’t looked back._

“ _I work with d’Artagnan, Porthos. It’s common for me to see him on a daily basis and besides, you have been so busy with your work and that arsonist case that I barely see you.”_

“ _I just have a bad feeling about today,” Porthos finally admitted. “Honestly, stay home with me? It's close to the anniversary of that Savoy Massacre. You could show me your scrapbook and we can see if there are any more clues as to what happened there?”_

_Porthos could see immediately that had been the wrong thing to bring up. Aramis paled and backed away slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced over to the stained glass cross hanging near the window. It’d been there ever since Aramis moved in and he would often find his boyfriend staring at it longingly. Porthos always wondered what the meaning of the cross was, but Aramis shut him down every time he asked._

“ _But you want no part of that day?” Aramis asked puzzled. “You’ve never wanted to know what happened.”_

“ _Even mentioning that day sends you into a tailspin. See, you are barely keeping it together!” Aramis was shaking and nervous, fiddling with the hem of his clothing. He looked so vulnerable, that Porthos instantly regretted bringing up the conversation._

_Ever since Good Friday seven years ago; his boyfriend had kept a scrapbook of events of that day. Any news or mentions were added once a year to the book and it had become quite comprehensive. If Porthos were being honest, the scrapbook and the events of that day terrified him, because every year around that time Aramis became obsessive and paranoid about everything. He would stress himself out, have nightmares and would be constantly distracted. It was why Porthos only allowed Aramis the book once a year and he, himself had never actually looked at it. He felt Aramis needed to move on and not dwell on the past._

_Despite all that, Porthos had tried to support him until last year when his own fears had completely taken control and the inevitable happened. Porthos had left Aramis, floundering, just before Good Friday._

“ _No,” Aramis whispered. “No, I am not ready to go down this road with you again. You knew when we started dating that I was broken and that I had secrets that I wasn’t ready to tell. You were ok with this… you were ok! Up until you decided you were no longer ok with this. You panicked and left me…”_

“ _This conversation escalated faster than I thought; let's stop ok?” Porthos moved forward to pull Aramis into his arms, but the man backed off and sat gingerly on the bed._

_It was silent in the room for a moment and then Aramis took in a giant shuddering breath and continued, “Next to Savoy, you leaving me was the worst day of my life. It was as though you laid all my failures in life in a neat little row in front of us. Did I ever tell you it felt like an ultimatum? Choose you or my messed up life. I’d never hated someone so much in my life as I hated you in that very moment and considering everything I’ve been through that was saying a lot.”_

“ _That's not fair Aramis! You hadn’t seen yourself, how crazed you were becoming over the whole situation. I couldn't watch you self-destruct anymore…”_

“ _I was going to tell you everything that night,” Aramis said softly, he sighed and picked up his shoulder bag, tossing a few things in he would need for work._

“ _And yet you didn’t Aramis, you let me leave and then ran straight into Anne’s arms. Our bed was barely cooled and you slept with her!” Porthos regretted the words as soon as they had left his lips, this conversation was taking a terrifying turn and he couldn’t stop himself._

“ _I… let you leave? Get over yourself Porthos.” Aramis cried, “Athos has already judged me enough for sleeping with her! I don’t need your input as well.”_

_Porthos moved forward and grabbed Aramis’ hands bringing them to his chest, “Fair enough. That was callous of me to suggest that you had any choice in my leaving, but can’t you see that she was waiting for that exact moment Aramis?”_

_Aramis ripped his hands out of the Porthos’ grip and resumed his task of packing for work, “Don’t you judge her either Porthos, she was there for me when you decided you didn’t want to be anymore. She is still happily married to Louis, no harm was done.”_

“ _You don’t even understand the pain you caused Aramis. Louis nearly divorced Anne; it's a wonder how he even managed to forgive her. She thought she was carrying your child for months and you were prepared to give up everything to provide for that child. You nearly destroyed yourself all for the fleeting chance to be a father.”_

_Aramis laughed a harsh emotional bark that even Porthos stepped backwards from. “You have no right to judge me for things that happened after we broke up. But no, you are right, I destroy everything I touch. I destroy everything I love and eventually I will destroy you.” Aramis paused, glaring at Porthos, breathing heavily._

“ _Aramis, no…”_

“ _Answer me this, why are we back together? What’s the point of all this?”_

“ _I love you! That’s the point of this, we were meant to be together.”_

“ _And what if I told you, I already had met and lost the person I was meant to be with?”_

_It was meant to be a biting comment, and Porthos cringed as if he’d been struck. He stared open mouthed at his boyfriend, trying to find something to say and failed. Panic was beginning to creep into his heart, its sharp claws gripping and stretching throughout his chest. He paled when Aramis spoke again._

“ _My heart has been shredded to pieces over and over throughout my life, what is one more tear? One more rend to a heart that you realised a year ago was irreparable.”_

“ _Aramis… No.” Porthos pleaded._

_Aramis closed his eyes. “Porthos, this isn’t working. That 3-month break between us broke us irrevocably… You are never home anymore, and that case is far more important than me. You know I noticed recently that the closer we get to Easter, the more hours you are putting in. There is too large a chasm between us to close and I hoped that I would at some point be able to get past things and finally tell you the whole story, but I realise now that I still don’t trust you. You couldn’t handle me at my worst; you only love me during my best.” Aramis ran his hands through his unruly hair. “I won't be here when you get home.”_

“ _What! No, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this!”_

_Aramis only grabbed his shoulder bag and silently padded from the room not looking back. Porthos barely heard the front door shut as he collapsed to the floor numb and in shock._

_What had he just done?_


	2. March 9, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is such a short chapter, but I felt it was best left on its own as a scene. But bonus? It's all about Aramis :)

**March 9, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

Aramis woke up in a very dark, dank basement, still damp from the emergency sprinklers at the hospital. He groaned and rolled to the side crying out weakly at the stabbing pain shooting through his head. The world around him wavered and pulsated with pain and his befuddled mind managed to acknowledge that the drug they had shot in his neck hadn’t left his system yet. He closed his eyes and let the darkness claim him.

The second time he woke, it was to a bucket of ice cold water being tossed over his body drenching him straight through to the clothes he wore under his scrubs. He scrambled along the floor, sputtering and gasping at the frigid water that forced his now wet clothing to cling to his body. He quickly looked around and his heart plummeted as he saw that he was locked in a cell, three walls made of sturdy, but very old brick and the fourth wall made up entirely of bars. The wall of bars currently held his only way of escape as there were no windows in his prison. There were two men standing outside of his cell on either side, one holding a bucket that Aramis assumed had held the water he was currently drenched in. There was one single lamp in the room near the entrance and it cast very little light into the all-consuming darkness of this space.

Aramis shivered. Despite the fact that he was wearing a layer under his bunny scrubs, he was still damp and it was cold in this cell. He pulled his arms up to hug himself to conserve body heat and moved forward to see if he could grab the guard's attention. He didn’t get very far before he was jolted to a stop, his hands flew towards his neck where a large heavy duty collar was wrapped around his neck. In his confusion, he hadn’t noticed the collar and he berated himself for missing such an important detail. The collar had a large chain attached to it that trailed down to a bolt in the ground near the small cot in the back corner of the cell. Aramis cried out in distress and pulled at the collar frantically; suddenly the walls felt as though they were closing in on him.

“Help! Please!” He cried out.

“Pleading won’t help you.” A female voice answered. “I see you are still afraid of small places.”

The woman moved into the feeble light cast by the lamp, “Hello Rene. It's been such a long time my love.”

Aramis gasped and stilled his movements at the voice of the woman; he didn’t even need to see her know who she was. “Isabelle?”

The woman standing before him looked nothing like the girl he loved through high school. Where there was once a meek, sweet girl, now stood a confident, well-dressed woman, with a slightly maddened twinkle in her eyes. Aramis supposed in hindsight she had always been a bit mad. It wasn’t until they had broken up that he truly understood how possessive and paranoid she had been with him. He came out of their relationship with very few friends, where once he had many, but despite all that he hadn’t regretted one moment of their relationship until several years ago.

“Oh, I am so glad you remember me, my darling.” She walked up to the bars of the cell and rested her head between two of them. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I’d prefer if you were just a very distant memory,” Aramis responded, he had recovered from his shock at seeing Isabelle fairly quickly and yanked on the chain attached to his collar. “Let me go.”

Isabelle ignored him and kept speaking, “You have no idea how long it took me to find you, my silly man. You changed your name to Aramis. Such an odd choice; reminds me of a book I read when I was younger. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding in Paris this entire time.” She ran her hands up and down the bars lovingly, staring straight into Aramis’ face.

Aramis took a step backwards, panic about being stuck in a small cell forgotten in the face of the woman standing before him. The maddening glint in her eyes was proving to be a frightening thing. The fact that he was in an underground cell, with guards and chained up like an animal made him realise this was planned and if she planned all this herself... What else was she capable of?

“Oh Aram---, no, you’ll always be my Rene. You have no idea how I felt when you left me all those years ago. You weren’t supposed to have gotten away.” Isabelle pouted a moment and then smiled. “It’s of no consequence, though, you came back to me. I can finish what I started with only minor adjustments to my end goal.”

“I didn't choose to come here; I was forced to come against my will.” Aramis tugged at his collar again for effect. “I had no intentions of ever seeing you again.”

Isabelle pulled away from the bars and let her hands fall to her sides. Her bottom lip jutted outwards a little and her eyes widened. To anyone that didn't know Isabelle, you'd think she was actually hurt and about to cry, but Aramis was very familiar with the mind games this woman played on him when they were together, and he wasn't about to be fooled by her again.

“You know Rene, there is so much we must discuss, so many years to make up for, but you are being especially difficult right now and it makes my thoughts jumble around in my head.” She rubbed her temples forcefully, sighing in relief.

Aramis snorted incredulously, “I am being difficult?”

She continued speaking, ignoring his comment. “You killed our baby that night Rene, do you remember? You and Adele plotting my death at that stupid year-end party, pushing me down that flight of stairs. You and that tramp succeeded in your murderous plot, killing our baby.”

He had no clue what Isabelle was talking about; they had been at one of the many cabarets celebrating the end of the year when he’d met Adele. Isabelle’s protective, possessive nature had reared its ugly head upon seeing the two having a conversation and she ran towards them screaming for Adele to move out of the way. The red haired woman, not wanting to cause trouble, did as Isabelle asked. Aramis, Isabelle nor Adele could have predicted what happened next. Adele had been standing at the top of a long staircase and when she stepped backwards her foot met air, Aramis had lunged forwards and grabbed her hands pulling her to safety, but Isabelle who was barreling forwards, fury radiating from her every pore, wasn’t as lucky. In pulling Adele out of the way, it left the staircase object free and Isabelle went tumbling down, landing with a sickening crunch.

“You are a mad woman. I didn’t push you down the stairs; my only fault lies in not catching you as you fell. And there never was a baby! You faked the whole thing! Let me go!” He ran forward, attempting to grab for Isabelle and stumbled to the ground when his neck chain halted his movements. He couldn’t even get near the bars to his cell.

Isabelle laughed, “It's okay baby, I can see you will take some convincing, but you and I have forever. You’ll come to see that I am the one you were always meant to be with, not that tramp Adele, or that man you call your boyfriend.”

“You leave Porthos out of this!”

“Oh, is that his name?” She gripped the bars of the cell again, this time so hard her knuckles turned white. “I honestly was surprised when you two gravitated towards each other; I never took you for someone who was bi-sexual. He can’t give you everything like I can Aramis. He can’t give you babies.”

“I never want anything from you ever Isabelle. Not your children, not your love, and most importantly, not you. You disgust me.”

Isabelle let go of the bars with a barely restrained shriek and ordered the men to open the cell door. The men ran in and grabbed Aramis by his arms and shoulders and held him in place as Isabelle sauntered in seething and breathing heavily. She walked right up to him and traced her fingernail down the side of his face, tugging on his curls that hung wet and ragged around his chin. “You will change your mind,” She said simply before striking him across the face with the palm of her hand.

Aramis’ head snapped to the side with the force of her blow and he felt a small amount of blood well up in his mouth. He spit it out towards her, smirking when it landed on her on her white satin shoe, staining it blood red. She growled and brought her knee up, slamming it into his groin, chuckling when his face went pure white and he groaned in pain. The guards holding him up allowed him to fold in on himself and fall to the ground.

“You are just jealous that I chose Adele over you. You'll always be alone Isabelle.” Aramis smirked again, his voice strained by the pain that rippled through his groin.

“Yes, well, where is Adele now Rene?” Aramis saw her smirk and growled. “You have five minutes boys; do your damage, but stay away from his face.” Isabelle backed off grinning as the two guards stalked into his cell, grinning ear to ear. Aramis took several hits to his abdomen and a couple on his back as the guards kicked him brutally.

They all walked out moments later, relocking the cell door, leaving Aramis barely conscious on the concrete floor, groaning and whimpering in pain.


	3. March 9, 2016 - Police Precinct - D’Artagnan

**March 9, 2016 - Police Precinct - D’Artagnan**

  
  


D’Artagnan had just put himself in a predicament. A situation that would have Aramis teasing him endlessly for his rash temper and taking as many pictures as he could, posting them all on social media for their friends to see. When he heard that Aramis had been the nurse abducted he'd panicked, and then when Athos and Porthos hadn’t showed up to investigate, he'd panicked more. He'd answered the questions of the detectives on scene and then raced to his friends’ precinct to find out why they hadn't shown up. In his mind, there should have been no-one else investigating but Aramis’ closest friends, which is why he basically broke into the jail, terrified the receptionist and flipped a desk in his quest to find Athos and Porthos.

So now he was sitting in a holding cell in the back of the jail awaiting a visit from either Athos, Porthos or Treville… actually knowing his luck it would be all three.

D’Artagnan stretched out a little further on the bench in the jail cell and rotated his wrists a little. The police officers had left the cuffs on his wrists when he was tossed in here earlier, telling him to calm down first. He hoped they would come back soon and remove them, as the cuffs were beginning to hurt and leave red marks on his wrists.

D'Artagnan actually couldn't decide who he'd rather deal with. Treville frightened him the most, mostly because the man knew his father and Treville was like an uncle to him. So obviously Treville could rat him out to the family and he would never hear the end of it. Actually no, he thought as he squirmed nervously on the small bench, Athos terrified him even more. Never had d'Artagnan met a man who could stare at you without emotion until you confessed your darkest secrets like Athos could. D'Artagnan absolutely had no interest in seeing Porthos at present, however; Aramis had confided in him what happened between the two earlier and d'Artagnan had a few things to say to the idiot. But put all three together and he was screwed.

“You know,” said a voice to d'Artagnan's left, “I don't think I've ever met someone that tried to break INTO jail.”

“Athos,” d'Artagnan squeaked. He stood up and walked over to where Athos was standing and grabbed the bars as if needing them for support. The detective was swinging a set of keys around his finger, and glaring at his prisoner, unimpressed.

“A simple request to see Porthos and I would have worked just as well. I have a pissed off receptionist wanting to press harassment charges and a missing best friend to find, so I don't have the time for your childish antics, kid.” As he spoke Athos moved forward and inserted one of the keys unlocking the cell door. He swung the door open and motioned for d'Artagnan to come forward so he could undo the cuffs that his fellow police officer had left him in.

“You owe the receptionist a huge apology; she likes expensive red wines and gift cards to 5-star restaurants.” With a click, the cuffs fell away and Athos attached them to his belt. He swung the cell door shut and motioned for d'Artagnan to follow him.

They wandered down a set of stairs and through a hallway to an older part of the building. D'Artagnan was weighing the pros and cons of asking Athos where they were going when they arrived at their destination. Tucked in an out of the way corner was a large conference room littered with boxes of files, a map hung on the wall with all sorts of news stories and victims’ pictures pinned to it. There was a large table in the center of the room and more than a few chairs positioned against the table. The room had no overhead lights, instead wall sconces all around the room let off a pleasant ambient glow. Most importantly it was quiet and d'Artagnan knew this was the room Athos and Porthos spent most of their time researching in. D'Artagnan looked down at a file resting on top of the nearest edge of the table and his eyes widened.

“You guys are researching the serial killer?” D'Artagnan asked, and before he could filter his next words he whirled around to Porthos who was sitting bent over a large file on the table and shouted, “That’s why you two didn't come to the hospital? Doesn't Aramis mean anything to you?”

Porthos looked up at d'Artagnan sharply, anger at the younger man’s words visible in the rigidity of his muscles. D'Artagnan was about to rush forward to confront Porthos further when Athos laid a hand on his shoulder. “Peace, brother. Treville thinks there is some connection to our serial killer and the hospital fire. We also think Aramis’ abduction was premeditated, so we chose to remain behind and see if we could make any connections.”

“Yeah, but--” D'Artagnan started.

Porthos stood up from his place on the table and walked over to d'Artagnan, interrupting him by placing his large hands on the young man's shoulders, “Look, I get it. I'm sure Aramis told you we broke up, but right now he's missing and this isn’t the time or place to have the conversation about who was right and wrong ok? I just want to find him.”

D'Artagnan only nodded, unsatisfied with Porthos answers and disentangled himself from the two detectives. “I suppose you want to hear my side of what happened at the hospital?”

“We want to know everything,” Athos responded. D’Artagnan watched as the man walked over to the opposite side of the room and grabbed a notepad and pen from the stash of supplies in the corner. He motioned for him to sit down next to Porthos and then pulled his chair over to face both of them. “Porthos, you record him and I will jot down notes. Maybe there is something in your story that will match with our investigation.”

  
  


**_March 9, 2016 - Hospital - D'Artagnan's office_ **

  
  


_ This was shaping up to be a long day d’Artagnan thought to himself. Aramis had been by a short time ago looking frazzled and extremely wet and had explained that on the way into work a semi truck had hit a puddle of water as he careened past and drenched him. D’Artagnan always kept a couple of extra pairs of scrubs in his office, whether they were for parents or patients or fellow nurses who needed a change of clothing. He had found out early on in his tenure here that it was something no one ever thought to keep on hand and already he’d rotated through several sets of scrubs. He had given Aramis the last pair he had and made a mental note to pick up some more on the way home later. _

_ When Aramis was all changed he had shuffled out and plopped down into a chair that d’Artagnan reserved for patients. It was an overly stuffed, hideous thing with pink flowers set against a green background. It was immensely comfortable though and d’Artagnan would be the first to admit he’d taken a thoroughly restful nap in that chair more than once. Aramis clashed hideously with the chair in his blue scrubs with fluffy bunnies and d’Artagnan couldn’t help but chuckle at the slightly damp man, earning a glare from him. _

“ _ What’s going on today Aramis?” d’Artagnan asked. “Molly’s parents are bringing her in for her final round of chemo. I thought I’d have them in for some celebratory apple juice after. Will you join us?” _

_ Aramis’ response was muffled as the man snuggled further into the chair and all but disappeared from view. _

“ _ Is everything ok?” d’Artagnan leaned over to better see Aramis, concerned when he heard a suspicious snuffle from the depths of the chair. He got up and walked over to Aramis and grasping his shoulders pulled him out into his embrace. “What’s going on my friend?” _

_ Aramis and d’Artagnan had known each other for a while before the duo had met Athos and Porthos. They had been attending university at the same time and had literally run into each other trying to attend the same lecture. It was a shaky friendship to start, but had quickly developed into a lasting friendship and the two had been inseparable for a couple of years before Porthos and Athos rolled in turning their duo into a foursome. _

“ _ I am not crying,” Aramis responded indignantly. _

_ D’Artagnan could feel Aramis’ hand swiping at his eyes and knew he was lying. He pulled away from the embrace and stared at his long-time friend, eyebrows raised in confusion and disbelief. _

“ _ Fine, ok, I was having a moment of weakness.” Aramis sighed. “Only it’s just, I don’t think Porthos and I are going to make it this time.” _

“ _ Oh Aramis…” d’Artagnan pulled his friend back into his embrace and hugged him firmly. “I am sure things will be just fine. It's a rough time of year for you, and both of you have just been so busy.” _

“ _ It’s exactly both of those things: he still can’t handle me and my issues and I am not sure I trust him anymore.” _

“ _ We’ve been over this though Aramis. You need to tell him what happened seven years ago. At least, even if you don’t tell him, you need to tell someone, anyone. I think you will find it cathartic.” _

_ Aramis paled at the thought of revealing his innermost secrets. He shook his head no and pulled out of d'Artagnan's embrace again and sat back into the chair. “I…” _

“ _ You can tell me?” D’Artagnan interrupted before Aramis could retreat back into himself or his memories. “But I understand why you won’t. You really need to trust Porthos, and you know of all people he wouldn’t judge. If whatever happened was actually that bad he’d understand Aramis.” _

“ _ But…” _

“ _ No. It’s time if you want to have any future with him or any ability to work past your ghosts you need his help.” D’Artagnan got up and went back to his desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out paper and a pen. “If you are having trouble telling him in person, then write him a letter. I’ll even deliver it to him so you don’t have to.” He walked back to Aramis and waved the objects in front of him. When they weren’t immediately taken, he tossed them into the man’s lap and walked away. _

“ _ You’re so mean to me.” _

“ _ Yeah, yeah, love you too Aramis.” _

“ _ But seriously,” Aramis began. “What century are you living in? I could just text him.” _

_ D’Artagnan jumped out of the way a moment later when the pen went sailing past his face, landing perfectly into the garbage bin on the other side of the desk. The other side where Aramis couldn’t even see from his vantage point. “How?” _

“ _ Skills.” _

“ _ But--” _

“ _ So what should I say? If I am doing this I am telling him in person, but I’d like him to have some history to base what I am telling him on.” Aramis had pulled out his cell phone and had opened up a conversation between him and Porthos. His thumbs hovered above the keyboard and he looked extremely nervous. _

“ _ Keep it simple, Aramis. He’s a detective and can figure out where to start,” d'Artagnan walked over to the garbage bin and fished out the pen. He backed up and threw the pen in an arch, it sailed straight over the bin and clattered to Aramis’ feet. _

_ Aramis smirked and finished typing a quick message to Porthos, reading it aloud to d'Artagnan before hitting send. _

“ _ Who is Rene d’Herblay and Adel--” d’Artagnan began when both his and Aramis’ pagers went off. “Crap, what horrible timing! This conversation isn't over, and you're also going to teach me to throw like that.” _

_ Aramis stood up and bowed mockingly, “As you wish my friend. Thank you d'Artagnan; the text idea actually helped.” _

_ Both men gathered their things and made their separate ways down the hallways, Aramis heading for the ER and d’Artagnan to meet with Molly and her parents. _

_D’Artagnan had just made it to the sliding doors of the children's ward when the fire alarms went off and gunshots could be heard echoing through the hospital walls._ _He spun around and shouted for Aramis who was still standing in the hall waiting for the elevator._

“ _ Get in the children's ward and lock the doors! Evacuate everyone out the emergency exits.” Aramis shouted back. The elevator doors opened and smoke began wafting out. “Quickly, d'Artagnan!” _

_ Aramis turned and ran for the stairs shouting to the palliative care ward at the opposite end of the hall to do the same and then disappeared from view as he ran into the stairwell. _

  
  


**March 9, 2016 - Conference Room - Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan**

 

“That was the last I saw of him. It was chaos, but everyone said the same thing: Aramis stopped at every level and repeated his instructions. Aramis must have turned on the manual emergency fire showers because they didn't go off when they were supposed to have. There is a lever in emergency and no one saw him after he entered the ER.”

Athos was handwriting on the pad of paper furiously and d'Artagnan leaned forward trying read what the detective had written. “We have a surveillance video of the ER, kid. It isn’t pretty. We reviewed the footage for hours and Treville is still going over it. We hoped to find some clues as to what happened and so far all we have figured out is that Aramis knew all or some of his abductors. It only proves that this was premeditated, though, not who these people are.”

D'Artagnan nodded, unsatisfied with Athos’ answers. He wished that he had been more heroic like Aramis had and followed him down to the emergency. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had done more if things would have worked out differently.

“Oh d’Artagnan, you did the right thing,” Athos responded. D’Artagnan was shocked at how intuitive Athos seemed to be. “You did exactly as you should have, following through on Aramis’ instructions. There is no telling what could have happened if you had gone with him. Something tells me they would have gotten to Aramis one way or another, and, at least, this way, the people at the hospital, both sick and not, were saved from the fire.”

D’Artagnan pondered Athos words for a moment before being distracted by the sudden grunt from the other occupant of the room. He turned to Porthos puzzled as to why the man was squirming in his chair.

“What do you mean Aramis sent me a text message? I haven’t had my phone go off all day.” Porthos stood up from the chair and shut the recorder off. He fumbled around looking for his cell phone and frowned when he didn't find it. “What the hell. Athos call my phone would you?”

Athos tossed the pad of paper onto the conference table and reached into his back pocket for his cell phone. He dialed Porthos’ number in and they all waited to hear the receiving phone ring. When there was no sound, Porthos growled and stalked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

“I take it he’s going to find his phone?” D’Artagnan asked.

Athos just stared at d’Artagnan blankly for a moment and then picked up the pad of paper reading it carefully. “This really doesn’t help us much. There isn’t anything to go on and nothing that really matches up with our current investigation. Like I told Porthos before, I don’t think these cases are related at all.”

“There is the fire at the hospital. Do those incidents match?”

Athos hummed, still staring at the pad of paper. “I won’t know for sure until the fire department sends us their reports. I’ve requested that this set precedent over all other investigations due to the serial arsonist we are dealing with. I hope to have that report soon, though…I will know more at that time.”

D’Artagnan could hear the doubt in Athos’ voice; he could tell the man really wanted a break in the arsonist case, even if it meant that Aramis was the newest victim. He figured it couldn't be easy feeling this way and d’Artagnan didn’t blame Athos one bit for it. At least, if it was their bad guy they’d have some history to base it on. If this was a completely new person they would be starting from scratch. “Athos, can I stay and help please? I have some time off that the hospital has been trying to force me to take. And with the fire, I am thinking they will relocate the patients for the time being. I want to help find Aramis. I mean I’ve known him a couple of years more than you guys, so maybe some of my insight will help?” D’Artagnan pleaded.

A knock on the door interrupted Athos’ response, and one of the uniformed officers opened the door and poked his head in. “Hey, Athos? Porthos told me to get you and someone called the whelp. He wants to see you in his office.”

Athos smirked at the officer’s confusion over d’Artagnan’s nickname and pulled the younger man along with him out the door towards Porthos’ office. “Yes, you can help if Treville grants you access, and you get to ask him yourself.”

D’Artagnan shouted in glee, pumping his fist in the air. He froze mid-shout a second later when several police officers froze and turned to look at him angrily. “Uhh sorry about that,” he apologised meekly.

Hearing the commotion in the hallway Treville walked out of his office and over to the duo. “Hello d'Artagnan, I don't think your mama is going to be pleased to hear of your antics at my precinct, is she?”

“No, sir, I'm sorry Uncle. I just want to help find Aramis. I promise to compose an award winning apology to the receptionist. Can I stay and assist? I’ll behave, I swear.”

Treville eyed d'Artagnan warily, the young man wasn't really his nephew, but he had known the boy’s parents for as long as he could remember. It was through him that he had met Aramis and had learned that the young man had lost his parents when he was younger. Treville had become a bit of a surrogate father for Aramis and he hoped and prayed that they would find him alive and generally unharmed. He turned back to Athos seeking confirmation that d’Artagnan wouldn’t be a burden in this investigation. Technically he was going against policies and procedures allowing a civilian to assist in an investigation, but he was also breaking those same rules by allowing both Athos and Porthos to investigate. He saw Athos nod imperceptibly and turned to his nephew, looking at the kid as sternly as he could muster.

“Very well, you may stay as long as you don't impede this investigation. Oh and Athos, the detectives that were on scene at the hospital will be dropping off all information pertaining to this case on your desk as soon as they process it. You should expect them sometime after dinner.” Treville looked at both Athos and d’Artagnan, lingering on the latter for an extra moment longer as if trying to convey his worry, and went back to his office.

“He’s worried,” d’Artagnan stated as they turned and made their way towards Porthos’ office. “I mean of course he is, Aramis is like a son to him. I’m sorry Athos, I am just making conversation.”

“It’s alright kid, we are all worried, but Treville is bound by more than just being a father figure here, he’s the captain of this precinct and his loyalty is pulled in all directions. I suspect that is why he allowed you to continue helping us. You’ll be looked upon to keep him updated on the situation as a civilian instead of a police officer.”

D’Artagnan nodded gravely, promising himself to make sure he did his best both to find Aramis and to keep the Captain from having to worry about the situation.

When they reached Porthos’ office they were surprised to find him hunched over the keyboard, face inches from the screen, frowning. “He left me a message saying that he is sorry about this morning, that he would tell me everything tonight and that he wanted to help me ease into it by giving me two names…” Porthos said, never tearing his eyes from the screen.

“Rene d’Herblay and Adele Bess… Besse… something like that!” D’Artagnan exclaimed.

“Yes well, I pulled up those names on the police database, but it only leads me to the names of the couple that died in the fire at the Savoy church. The same one that Aramis was a first responder to the scene. It wasn't one of his better days.”

Athos sat down in the chair on the opposite side of Porthos’ desk and motioned for d'Artagnan to take the other. “I admit,” he began. “That I never really looked into the whole event, despite knowing that it shattered Aramis.”

“Honestly, I never did either. The very idea that Aramis’ mental state crumbles at this time of year is overwhelming, to say the least, and I never really had the time to focus on the why, only on how to get him through the coming days. I don’t think he would have appreciated my search into his past either and he isn’t going to like it this time around either.”

Porthos’ eyes widened suddenly and he gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned distinctly whiter. “What if we don't find him in the next couple of weeks Athos? He’s going to have to go through this all alone! Easter is only three weeks away.”

“Hey, hey no Porthos. We’ll find him long before that. The whelp is allowed to stay with us and help. You’ll see… with the three of us looking we will have him home in your arms before you know it. D’Artagnan, you help Porthos with this and I am going to go back to the conference room and continue with the research on our serial arsonist.’’ Athos stood up and pushed the chair back under the desk. “And if you find anything come and update me, yeah?”

Both d’Artagnan and Porthos nodded, the latter still looking unconvinced.

As Athos walked out of the office he heard the kid ask if Porthos could pull up anything on the deaths of Rene and Adele and he smiled grimly. He still had doubts that the two cases were related, but he knew Porthos wouldn’t rest until Aramis was safe in his arms again. And while he himself was just as worried, he hadn’t forgotten that they also had an arsonist to capture. So it was with a heavy heart that Athos wandered back to the conference room and sat down in the midst of the many files to research. He picked up a random file and opened it reading the first sentence before he paused and shut it firmly.

“I wonder…” He said aloud and got up, moving to the back of the room where he kept his laptop. After turning it on, he opened up the police records for arsons in 2009 and pulled up the Savoy fire file. “What happened that day, Aramis? How would that day be connected to the current arsons...”


	4. April 10, 2009 – Good Friday – The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am busy tonight and won't have time to post, so I am giving this to you now :) I hope you all enjoy it.

**_April 10, 2009 – Good Friday – The Wedding_ **

 

_ He was nervous. He wasn't sure he'd ever experienced this level of anxiety and he was absolutely sure he never wanted to experience this type of panic ever again. It wasn't as though he had cold feet, no, Adele was everything he'd ever wanted and he'd marry her every day for the rest of his life if he could. Still, it was the idea that he was going to have a wife when this day ended and the fact that he was going to be a husband made the future come into sharp focus. It was a jarring thought. _

_ He tried and failed yet again to assemble the bow tie at his neck. Adele had insisted on bow ties for this wedding much to Rene’s chagrin. In fact, this whole wedding lent itself a very antique affair, with corsets and bustles and top coats reminiscent of the Victorian era. She'd done an amazing job actually, Rene was duly impressed. He'd never been one for fancy suits, though, much-preferring jeans and long sleeved t-shirts or his nurse scrubs. Comfortable things, those were his speciality. _

_ He tried the bowtie again, growling in frustration when it simply fell apart in his hands. Annoyed he tossed the whole strip of infernal cloth behind him and stretched his arms outwards adjusting his top coat. _

“ _ It doesn't paint quite the same picture without a bowtie my friend.” A voice said behind him. _

“ _ Marsac! Oh, thank God. What am I doing here? What have I gotten myself into?” _

“ _ Oh, Rene…” Marsac began, wrapping his hands around Rene’s neck and swiftly tying the strip of cloth into a neat little bow. _

“ _ How did you just tie that bowtie like that? And no, don't you Rene me. What have I agreed to here?” _

“ _ You have agreed to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, despite not deserving her,” Marsac responded with a decidedly mischievous grin. “If you are having second thoughts, I’d be glad to make an honest woman out of Adele.” _

_ Rene glowered into the mirror he was standing in front of and spun around glaring at his long-time friend. “There is no way you could make any woman honest, Marsac. I chose the wrong man to be my groomsman, that’s my problem.” _

_ Marsac only chuckled and moved back towards the door to the room. “Your life would be duller without my presence in it, my friend. Now I have been informed that the bride has arrived and that the ceremony is to commence in roughly 15 minutes. Just enough time for me to make the acquaintance of a couple of very hot bridesmaids. I shall be back promptly.” Marsac bowed deeply and scurried from the room, a predatory grin on his face. _

_ And so he was alone again. Marsac was a pain the ass, and not for the first time did Rene question the man’s sanity, but despite all that, the man had stuck by him during the whole Isabelle fiasco and had fully supported this Adele thing. Rene definitely felt that he owed Marsac far more than the other man would ever understand and it was why Marsac was his best man at his wedding to Adele. And that suddenly brought him back to his earlier panic in regards to this day. He was marrying Adele today. _

_ Adele, his beautiful and amazing redhaired girl. A chance meeting during graduation into nursing school, a short friendship that helped support him through his breakup with Isabelle, and a whirlwind romance that began as a rebound relationship. Neither of them had wanted more than a simple relationship and it had quickly spiraled into a torrid love affair that neither of them had expected. It ultimately had brought them to this day, their wedding day. Thinking back on the last few years, aside from the psycho girlfriend he’d had at the beginning, Rene wouldn't change a thing and it suddenly calmed Rene’s pounding heart. This was exactly where he was meant to be, starting his future with this woman. _

_ He turned then, straightening his jacket one last time, and picked up the delicate flower Adele had chosen for the ceremony. It was a yellow daffodil, chosen partly because Adele loved yellow and also because, as she said, it meant rebirth and new beginnings, and that was what their relationship signified. _

_ He pinned the pretty flower to his lapel and glanced at himself in the mirror one last time, relieved to note that the last of the worry lines had erased themselves from his face. His marriage to Adele was the right move and nothing was going to tarnish this day. _

  
  


**March 10, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

 

Aramis woke up early the next morning to the sound of someone singing 'good morning sunshine'. It was so out of tune, far too cheery and he knew immediately it was Isabelle. She’d always been a bad singer and would torture him in high school by composing him love songs. It was cute at first but became aggravating when the entire student body started making fun of him.

He was still lying on the ground where the guards had left him after his beating earlier, lacking the care to move. He’d dozed off a couple of times, only to wake up when either one of the guards would shout at him. They finally left him alone in the early hours of the morning, just before dawn. Aramis was glad that they had kept him awake if he was being honest. Keeping him alert meant his mind wouldn’t wander off into memories that weren’t welcome.

It was getting close to Good Friday and usually around this time memories would begin to assault him. He'd remember the moment when Adele stood at the end of the aisle, gripping her father's arm, preparing to walk towards her future. Memories of his Mom, overcome with happiness, bursting into tears when he and Adele said ‘I do’. Memories of his Father, proud as he shook his son’s hand and pulled him into a hug. The thought that he would never again see them still hurt so much seven years later.

The downside to him being awake was that his fear of confined spaces had reared its ugly head. Aramis had spent most of the night trying to slow his breathing down. The walls felt as though they were closing in on him and the air thickened. At some point during the night, one of the guards had fallen asleep after an evening of belittling him. It was then that Aramis had a realisation; if these two fools were down here with him unconcerned, then the walls weren't going to actually close in. The air had lightened and the walls reverted to their original places and Aramis had smiled. Maybe he finally had overcome his claustrophobia. Well, he hoped he had, but he would take it as a win if it was, at least, this particular situation he’d overcome.

“They are looking for you, Rene. Did you know that?” Isabelle asked. She entered the room and walked back and forth in front of the cell, dragging her finger over each bar as she passed. She carried a large basket in her other hand and swung it back and forth as she walked.

“I am not sure how you expect me to know that it's not like I have been allowed access to information. But I imagine that they would be looking for me,” Aramis responded. He was facing her, watching her every move and reading her expression to determine what she wanted. It had been so long since he had last seen Isabelle and he had no clue where her frame of mind was these days.

“I figured you would be more… hopeful?” Isabelle inserted the key in the lock and moved towards Aramis. She set a large red blanket on the ground and sat down on it just out of Aramis’ reach. She then placed the basket she was carrying off to her side, though still within Aramis’ line of sight. The blanket corner had been placed close enough to Aramis and subconsciously he moved his fingers to caress the edge. It was soft.

“I want to know why you aren’t reacting to my news. Don’t you want to know how I know they are looking for you?”

Aramis sighed and gripped the edge of the blanket a little more firmly. He was trying so hard not to think about the people he left behind yesterday, albeit not by his own choice. All throughout the night, when he wasn’t thinking of Adele, his thoughts would dwell on his friends. He knew they would be worried and he knew they would be looking for him. He just couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not, he didn't like them looking into his past without him there guiding them. They'd have to delve pretty far into his past to find anything and it wasn't going to be quick or easy. Everything before the Savoy fire was sealed and wiped away; Aramis had made sure of that.

“Fine, I can see you aren’t interested,” Isabelle said. She opened the basket and began pulling out various items of food. Aramis’s mouth immediately began to water as she laid out cheeses, meats and pieces of bread. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday morning and was starving. “I thought we could have a nice picnic and discuss terms. Now sit up, your chain is long enough to allow you to perch on the edge of this blanket. And I won’t be so gracious a second time.”

“Discuss what terms?” Aramis asked. He sat up, scooted a little bit forward and crossed his legs; his neck chain was stretched close to its limit.

“Yes, terms. I have one single goal in mind, your complete and utter devotion to me. I have a lengthy timeline of events and when they should occur. So to keep this as organised as possible I have laid out an elaborate rewards and punishment system.”

She placed several items of food on a plate and handed it to Aramis, never breaking his gaze.

“What do you mean by punishments?” He asked. He swallowed nervously and reluctantly took the offered plate.

“I am hoping it doesn’t come to that. Knowing your penchant for causing trouble, though, I am sure there will be plenty of that coming. But I don’t want to talk about such unpleasant things like punishments; I want to talk about the rewards. Oh, my love, I am going to give you everything you have ever wanted, I just need your co-operation.”

Isabelle leaned forward and took Aramis' other hand, bringing it to her face. She purred as his cold hand met her cheek, and she closed her eyes for just a moment as if savouring it.

Aramis stilled, it was all he could do not to yank his hand back. He still needed to determine just how far she was going to go with these terms and so, allowed her this concession.

“Rewards?” He asked with a shaky voice.

“Oh,” Her eyes popped open as if she had forgotten where she was and what she was doing. She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. “Behave, do what I want and you’ll have everything. Despite our shaky beginning yesterday, you have been remarkably docile since. Your reward is this lavish breakfast with me, as well as this blanket to keep you warm. I have also left a change of clothes in the bottom of this basket. Those scrubs you're wearing are hideous! Going forward, if you don't do as I ask, I will make sure your life is a living hell. I will start over again and destroy everything you have loved since Savoy.”

Aramis, startled by the sudden vehemence in her voice, backed off the blanket and moved away from her. The food he’d just eaten weighed heavy in his stomach and he felt like being sick. The situation he was in couldn’t be more clearly laid out before him and with a horrible sinking feeling, he realized he might not come out of this in his right mind. If he even came out of this at all.

"What do you mean by start over again? What does Savoy have to do with this?"

Isabelle smirked, her face twisting into a frightening smile that made Aramis even more nervous.

"Oh, love, a slip of the tongue on my part. Now, I have things to attend to and I won’t be back today. Take this time to think over our conversation. And to answer myself from earlier on how I know they are looking for you. This is your punishment for moving away from me just now.” Isabelle reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulled out a picture and handed it to Aramis.

She laughed when he refused to take it and let it flutter to the ground in front of him.

“Have a wonderful day my gorgeous man!” She said. She walked out of the cell and left the guards to relock the door as she climbed the stairs out of the room.

Aramis looked at the picture that had landed face down on the ground. With a shaking hand, he flipped the small piece of photo paper over and gasped at the image. It was a picture of Porthos, sitting alone in his office, holding Aramis' cross in his hands. The expression on Porthos’ face was devastatingly sad and made his heart shatter at the sight.

Oh Porthos, Aramis thought, please find me.


	5. March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Porthos’ Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry with where I had to cut the chapter. It was either that or a massive chapter with too many different things going on.

**March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Porthos’ Office**

 

Porthos and d’Artagnan were still closed up in Porthos’ office and it had been an entire night since they had started their research. D’Artagnan had dozed off sometime around one am and Porthos left him be, not having the heart to wake him up. Porthos felt exhausted, his limbs were numb and tingly and wouldn't co-operate. He also had a dull headache that had started early on the evening prior.

He hadn’t seen Athos since the night before, and he wondered if the man had found anything connecting the fires. During his night of research, he’d looked for any info on the Savoy fire but found little information. Nothing in the articles was new to him, each saying the same thing Aramis had told him over the years. There were no survivors, the arsonist was unknown to the police and had never been found. He and d’Artagnan split the research, Porthos looking into Rene d’Herblay because Aramis had asked him to in the text message. D’Artagnan had taken on the task of looking into Aramis’ past to find any clues about why he was abducted.

He'd tried to close his eyes throughout the night and rest, but thoughts of Aramis haunted him. He replayed their breakup and wondered if he could have changed anything. Porthos also couldn't help worrying that Aramis might not be getting the chance to rest, or worse, that his boyfriend was being hurt in some way. The one thing he wouldn't admit to himself, after a fruitless night of searching, was that he might not ever see him again. He hoped he would get a chance to at least apologize to him and see if they could right the wrongs of the past couple of years.

Every so often Porthos would glance away from the screen to give his eyes a rest, and his gaze would fall on the room's other occupant. D’Artagnan was asleep on the small, but comfortable brown couch on the other side of the office. His dark hair splayed over the cushion and his deep green hospital scrubs rumpled from the busy day of rescuing and researching. It was close to 6 am and during another one of his eye resting periods that Porthos decided it was time to wake the younger man up. D’Artagnan and Aramis had been friends for a couple years before Porthos and Athos had met them. The two men were inseparable in their friendship and Porthos couldn’t be more grateful for d’Artagnan’s presence in their lives. It was rare to see one without the other unless the two were otherwise engaged in work or Aramis was out with Porthos. Even then a majority of the time d’Artagnan was around, dragging Athos along wherever he went.

Porthos stood up and stretched, grimacing as several vertebrae in his back popped and snapped.

He turned to the couch to wake his sleeping friend up when a knock on the door interrupted him. D’Artagnan flew from his hastily made bed on the couch with a yelp.

“Waaa?”

“Peace d’Artagnan,” Porthos said. He placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder to settle him. One of the new recruits opened the door and entered bringing a tray laden with coffee and bagels. Charbonneau, if Porthos remembered his name correctly, set the coffees down. He produced another bag out of nowhere and showed Porthos the contents. There was sugar, cream cheese for the bagels and milk for the coffees inside.

“From the Captain,” Charboneau explained. “He also asked me to tell you that he and Athos are convening in his office at 9 am and would like you two to join them.”

‘Thanks, man.” Porthos responded. He grabbed the nearest cup as Charboneau left his office and downed the hot liquid in a couple of gulps. He looked towards d’Artagnan and grinned. The younger man looked completely out of it after having so little sleep and woken abruptly.

“Here, drink this.” He held out the other cup of coffee for d’Artagnan to take. “You ok?”

“Ask me again in a minute,” D’Artagnan mumbled. He grabbed the coffee and mimicked Porthos’ earlier actions, gulping down the liquid. “Ugh, this coffee is gross. Tea would have been so much better.”

Porthos smirked and went back to his desk as d’Artagnan stood and rustled through the bag for a bagel.

"Cream cheese is in the bag."

"Don't need it."

Gross, thought Porthos, cream cheese was a necessity.

“Treville wants to see us soon, so let’s get back to our search and see if we can come up with anything today that we couldn’t yesterday,” Porthos said.

D’Artagnan nodded and rubbed his eyes with the palm of one hand. He sat down and retrieved his laptop from where it had fallen while he was sleeping. “Did you sleep at all Porthos?”

“No, I couldn’t. Every time I close my eyes my mind conjures up all these scenarios of what could be happening to Aramis. None of them are pleasant.” Porthos reached to the back of his neck and kneaded the aching muscles. An entire night of sitting at the computer hadn’t done him any favors, but he was determined to continue until they found Aramis.

“Have you found anything?” D’Artagnan asked. “Though, that’s a silly question I suppose. Had you found anything you’d have woken me up. I was on to something last night before I fell asleep actually. Give me a second to figure out where I was.”

Porthos nodded and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and temples against his building headache. “I couldn’t find any info about Rene or Adele leading up to the wedding date. It's like the whole event didn’t exist! The media doesn’t even mention there was an entire group of people that died attending a wedding that day.”

“That’s odd. You’d think something like that would be front page news.” D'Artagnan responded. His fingers were flying across the keyboard.

“Maybe Athos will have come up with something.”

Suddenly d’Artagnan’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter, running his hands through his hair. “I had a theory last night and was running some tests to see if I could confirm it. I fell asleep before the search finished.”

Porthos looked towards the younger man, curious. He was at the point where he would take any sort of information.

“Aramis de Vannes did not exist before 2009.”

“What?”

“There is nothing, absolutely nothing. He pops up in the records for the University in the fall of 2009 and about a million things since, but before that? Not a thing.” He turned the laptop around so that Porthos could see and pointed to the screen. “See? He enrolled in the Master’s program for nursing the same year I enrolled for counseling. But there is no record anywhere of him attending school for his nursing degree.”

“That makes no sense d’Artagnan. Maybe he went to University somewhere else. Did you check the other school's records? And Aramis has to exist, are you sure there aren't any birth records and whatnot?”

“I looked into birth records, marriage… what? He could have gotten married, it's not like he was too young for that. There is nothing… there is no INSEE number, death records; yes I even checked death records. There are no articles, no social media pages created before 2009.”

Porthos sighed. He was so confused, how could Aramis not exist? He wished that he had paid more attention to Aramis over the years. This search into his boyfriend's past was making him realize that he knew little about Aramis before their first date. He growled and rose from his chair causing it to roll backward and slam into the filing cabinet behind the desk. It made d’Artagnan cringe.

“I can’t believe how little I know about the man I love!” Porthos exclaimed. He began pacing back and forth in the small office, muttering under his breath about how stupid he’d been.

“I am sure you know him better than you think you do Porthos,” d’Artagnan said. “Our pasts shouldn't be the only thing that defines who we are today. You know what he likes and doesn’t like and you know all his little idiosyncrasies. You know who Aramis is, Porthos, and that is what matters.”

Porthos’ shoulders slumped and he nodded at d’Artagnan, before pulling the chair back to the computer. He sat down and opened another search box, hands hovering over the keyboard, not knowing what to type. “I just don’t understand how he couldn’t have existed before a certain date. Can you rerun that search? Maybe there is an error.”

D’Artagnan nodded and punched some information into the computer and sat back while it did a mass search.

  
  


**_September 2009 – University - D’Artagnan_ **

 

_ D’Artagnan was late, so very late. He raced down the hallways slipping and sliding around the corners, his runners squeaking on the polished floors as he tried to get to his last class of the day. He was so screwed; his professor wouldn’t look kindly on his being late. He was racing so fast, mind focussed on his intent that he didn't see the other man also intent on reaching his own destination. They met at full speed, crashing into one another, books flying and arms flailing. Both men landed in a tangle of arms and legs and breathing heavy from exertion. _

_ “Wow. That was a spectacular first impression…” D’Artagnan said. He looked to the man he crashed into and saw him holding his chest, eyes wide and grinning. The stranger’s hair was a brownish wild tangled mess and his plaid shirt buttoned wrong in obvious haste. There was a red mark on his forehead which would bruise nicely later thanks to their collision. D’Artagnan assumed he’d have a similar mark on his own forehead. _

_ “There will be more than a few places on me that are going to be sore tomorrow, but nothing feels broken,” the man chuckled. He smiled, his eyes crinkling on either side and then braced his hands on the floor behind him extending his legs. “Are you hurt anywhere?” _

_ D’Artagnan grinned back at the man and shook his head, “I usually pay more attention to where I am going, but I’m late for Professor David’s class. I’m Charles by the way though I usually go by my last name d’Artagnan. _

_ "It’s nice to meet you d’Artagnan, my name is Aramis,” The man said. “You are here for Professor David’s class?” _

_ D’Artagnan nodded and reached for his backpack that rested on the floor beside him. He began placing his books in the bag and stacking the ones of Aramis’ closest to him in a neat pile. _

_ “I am excited to be one of the students chosen for his lectures. This professor is practically my hero! How he recovered like that after such a tragedy baffles me.” _

_ “What tragedy?” Aramis took his pile of books and began placing them into his own bag. _

_ D’Artagnan looked up at Aramis, shocked that he didn’t know. “His daughter died in a fire, I am surprised you have never heard of this, it was all over the news. I remember it from when I was a lot younger, he lost everything that night. Professor David is rumored to have been one of the best professors at this University until his daughter died and he disappeared for years. Someone dragged him from his retirement a couple of years ago and convinced him to teach again. He only teaches this one class and only to a select few students he personally chooses.” _

_ D’Artagnan saw Aramis frown and roll his shoulders, several emotions flashing across his face before he schooled himself and brushed them off. _

_ “I’ve never heard of this guy. And I don’t know what would make him think I was worthy of an invite?” _

_ “Oh! Are you part of the class too? That is amazing, I’ll know someone then. Also, obviously, you have some redeeming qualities about you, because you’ve been invited to join the class.” D’Artagnan smirked. _

_ Aramis laughed and opened his mouth to say something when the classroom door flew open wide and the topic of their conversation glared down at them. _

_ “Gentlemen, how nice of you two to join my class,” Professor David smiled. He clapped his hands together and stepped to the side to allow them entrance. “I have just the perfect job for you two, come in please!” _

_ The two men looked at one another sheepishly. They picked up the rest of the books from the ground and shuffled into the classroom. D’Artagnan had a feeling this was punishment for being late. _

_ Inside the classroom, it was completely silent. Every one of the students that had made it on time was staring at the two of them. Some of them were grinning and he decided those were students he wanted nothing to do with. Laughing in the face of others discomfort wasn’t an honorable trait. The rest of the students were looking at both Aramis and d’Artagnan with pity. _

_ D'Artagnan noticed Aramis had stopped just inside the classroom and he glanced over at him, the man looked ill. Following Aramis’ line of sight, he looked to the front of the classroom where there was a stage. The stage was set up to look like there had been a massive fire at a church. The building was burned and charred, or at least painted to look that way. It had fake flames shooting from the steeple and the lighting was all in oranges and reds to symbolize fire. Around the stage, there were various students setting up supplies that he assumed were being used for triage. D'Artagnan shivered; it was an impressive set, frightening and quite real. He could see why Aramis was hesitant to go any closer, even he was wary of participating. _

_ “You two have just volunteered to be my fire victims. Some of the nursing students will be applying salve and other things to your skin to show how to treat burns. Also, some of our psychiatric students will be conducting sessions on those that survive. Fires are nasty disasters that play with your psyche, not that I am demeaning any other disaster. I have experience in this and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It helps to talk about it afterward; I am living proof of this. If it wasn’t for some quite persistent people I would still be hiding away suffering.” Professor David announced. He waved the two men along to the front of the room and stood on the stage, beginning his lecture. _

_ D'Artagnan walked up the stairs to the stage and listened to the professor talk about his past. It was fascinating to him, how people could bounce back from horrible tragedies. It was the reason he wanted to become a counselor, to help people start their lives brand new. His goal was to get a nice job in a school or hospital and help children cope with all the things life could throw at them. _

_ “Now Monsieur de Vannes, if you would just come on stage, we can get started with the demonstration, you’re our first victim. Let's pretend for a moment that you are the only survivor. The guilt at being the only one left alive would eat at you…" _

_ D’Artagnan looked at Aramis and the professor's words faded away into the distance. His new friend had not moved from his spot near the entrance to the classroom. Instead, Aramis had gone completely still, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. His fists were clenched and shoulders so tense, even d’Artagnan could tell from the front of the room how rigid he was. _

_ D’Artagnan walked down the steps towards Aramis, “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. _

_ “I’m… I mean… I think…” Aramis stuttered. The room had gone quiet at d’Artagnan’s question and Aramis’ response was louder and harsher than it should have been. _

_ The professor’s voice cut through the silence and d’Artagnan saw him moving towards the two of them. “Monsieur de Vannes, are you alright?” _

_ Aramis didn't respond. His attention was still focussed on the scene on stage. _

_ D’Artagnan lowered his voice, recognizing that something was wrong with his friend. Hoping he could prevent him from completely panicking, he took a hold of Aramis' wrist. “Aramis, whatever is going on, you aren’t in any danger. This isn’t real, it’s just a role play session, and we are pretending to be victims.”  _

_ “I am a victim…” Aramis whispered. D’Artagnan doubted anyone but himself and Professor David heard him. He glanced back to the older man in silent confirmation that he had heard Aramis correctly. _

_ “What were you a victim of?” He asked. Aramis began shaking and his face paled until he was whiter than a ghost. A small cry escaped his lips and he pulled on his wrist that was still trapped in d'Artagnan's hand. _

_ "What do you mean?" D'Artagnan asked again. _

_ “Monsieur d’Artagnan, stop him!” Professor David cried out. “He’s going to run!” _

_ D'Artagnan, distracted by the professor’s shout never got the chance to stop him. Aramis yanked his wrist from the grip and he took off down the aisle and out of the classroom. _


	6. March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Porthos’ office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter for you :) Next week we revisit Aramis.

**March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Porthos’ office**

  
  


“Aramis is afraid of fire,” D’Artagnan said with a soft voice. He let his hands fall to his sides and slouched back into the sofa.

“Hmmm?”

“In University, there was this legend of a professor that taught an extra credit course. Professor David retired after his daughter died when she left a candle burning in her room overnight. He never recovered after her loss and his psychiatrist encouraged him to get back into doing something he loved. So while he didn’t want to teach full time again, he started this class on fire safety and how to treat burn victims.”

“Ok,” Porthos commented, still unsure where d'Artagnan was going with this story.

“It was an amazing class to take, both for helping victims with the emotional aspects of a fire as well as treating the injured. They'd even had mock counseling sessions. It's where Aramis and I met.”

“D’Artagnan, no offense, but what’s the point of this?”

“The day Aramis and my worlds collided, literally, we both were one of the select few asked to be a part of the class. He lasted a whole five minutes before he bolted from the room. I found him outside afterward having a full blown panic attack. There is no way you’d have that innate fear of something unless you’d been a part of a traumatic event. We never spoke of what happened that day in class, but I was able to calm him down. He refused to go back in, and after a quick conversation with the professor, he was excused from the rest of the semester.”

“Aramis said he was one of the first to respond, that is the traumatic event right there. Trying to save all those people and listening to the screams from within the church? That would be the worst thing ever to experience.”

D’Artagnan growled, frustrated. He ran both of his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t think Aramis was the first responder Porthos. Listen to me, please?”

“No, you listen. You are insinuating that Aramis is lying and has been lying for at the least the five years we have been together. He’d never lie about his work!” Porthos was so angry at d'Artagnan's words. How dare this kid who claimed to be Aramis’ best friend accuse him of lying!

“Nothing about this adds up, Porthos. Aramis doesn’t exist before Savoy; Rene obviously doesn’t exist after Savoy. If Aramis was working at a hospital in Paris, what was he doing all the way over in Savoy?”

Porthos leaned back into his office chair and watched as d’Artagnan pulled his laptop closer in frustration. The kid was furiously typing on the keyboard, tongue sticking out in concentration.

He was still puzzled by where d’Artagnan’s thought process was going about Aramis not being at Savoy. He knew that their time was almost up as well and that they needed to start assisting Athos with his investigation. He was just about to tell d’Artagnan this when he spoke up.

“Aramis gave us two names to look into, and we didn’t even bother checking into the bride. We were unable to find anything on Rene because there isn’t anything to look into. It’s like his history has been wiped clean, it’s there Porthos, but I don’t have the skill to find it.”

“You think someone purposefully hid Rene’s history, why?”

The two men stared at each other for a moment before a light bulb went on in Porthos' brain. His eyes widened at what d'Artagnan was implying. “No… you don’t think just anyone erased Rene, you think Aramis erased Rene.”

D’Artagnan nodded and he spun the laptop around so that Porthos could see what he had found. “No, well I mean yes I think that, but I think Aramis  _ is _ Rene and he erased his own history. I think that Rene survived the wedding day massacre in Savoy and became Aramis. I also think that in his haste to cover up what happened that night, he didn’t bother hiding Adele.”

Porthos’ jaw dropped open and he grabbed the laptop from d’Artagnan, peering at what was on the screen. It was a news article with a large picture of Adele laughing and behind her stood Aramis, far enough away to be unrecognizable to any but those who knew him.

“How did I not find this?” Porthos whispered.

“Because Rene isn’t mentioned at all in the news article; Savoy isn't mentioned either. Adele is the only one talked about, their beloved teacher who died on her wedding day. It’s a tribute from her students, Porthos, and this article appeared in the small town newspaper where she taught.”

It was as though all time halted at the revelation; even Porthos could feel his heart shudder to a stop. Aramis de Vannes was Rene d’Herblay; the same Rene that 'supposedly' died in a fire seven years ago in Savoy on his wedding day.

“Also,” d’Artagnan continued. “Yes, I was right! Adele has a birth record, death record and records of what schools she went to. The majority of her family is dead, thanks to whoever set the church on fire.”

“How is that possible?” Porthos asked. His voice was shaking.

“How is what possible, Porthos?”

“How did Rene survive? The reports all state that no one survived.” Porthos shuddered at the thought that Aramis had lost everything in one night. He wished that he could have Aramis there with him, hugging the man within an inch of his life. He understood now why his boyfriend crumbled every year, and Porthos wished he had been present more often for him. “I want more d’Artagnan. Keep looking into this, how did he survive?”

D'Artagnan nodded and spun his laptop back around preparing to do some more searching. There was a knock on the door and Athos popped his head in. “Porthos, I think I managed to connect the Savoy fire to our current arsonist. Also, we have a guest here to see us. You need to come with me now, D’Artagnan too, Treville’s office please.”

D’Artagnan quickly gathered his things and followed Athos out of the office. Unbidden a memory came to Porthos like a flash of lightning and his heart broke as he realised that even from his and Aramis' first date, his boyfriend had been lying to him.

  
  


**_Summer 2011 - Aramis and Porthos’ first date_ **

  
  


_ Aramis and Porthos strolled lazily down the sidewalk of one of the many parks in Paris, chatting. It was a warm summer day and there were a lot of people spending the day outdoors like they were. _

_ Their schedules for the next week were opposite each other. Aramis was currently on a night shift rotation and Porthos was on the day shift at the precinct. The only time the two could find to have a proper first date was breakfast on a Sunday morning. It meant contending with the church crowds and the families up before the crack of dawn, but Porthos didn't care. He wanted to have a proper date with Aramis and patience wasn't one of his known virtues. _

_ Despite having to wait a bit longer to eat, the date had been lovely so far. Porthos felt as if he had known Aramis for a lot longer than the two weeks they'd been chatting through text messages. He felt certain that this would lead into a second date and if he was being honest, he was hoping for a longer term thing. They had just settled the bill when Aramis' phone went off. He took the call, walking outside of the cafe for a bit of privacy. _

_ When Porthos met him outside a short time later, Aramis was smiling and ending the phone call. _

_ "That was Constance telling me they changed the schedules last minute. I'm ordered out of the hospital for no less than a week. It was high time, she said, that I take some time off. Then she asked me all sorts of questions about you. I could feel her waggling her eyebrows through the phone," Aramis laughed. He ran his hand through his hair. "I have a feeling my dear friend d'Artagnan pulled some strings. He is smitten with Constance, did I tell you that?" _

_ Porthos smiled. He was more than elated to be able to spend extra time with this man and he was hoping Aramis felt the same way. "No you did not, but I don't want to talk about d'Artagnan and Constance. Actually, while you were outside on your call, Athos texted me to say he took a week off, which means that I am off the schedule as well. Captain Treville has this funny idea that Athos and I can't function without one another, platonically of course." _

_ "Oh?" Aramis asked. "Of course, it's platonic; he's your best friend is he not?” _

_ "Yeah, he never does this, though, and I have to admit, it might be because I never stop talking about you. He's been trying to set us up since we ran into each other last month." _

_ "Aw I never stop talking about you either; d'Artagnan even told me to shut up about you the other day. Athos doesn't seem the type to set people up, though, he seems grumpy most of the time." Aramis stated. _

_ Porthos snorted in an undignified way, "You'd be absolutely correct. I don't know what's gotten into him or your friends either. This is just the first date; do they think we are lifelong soulmates?" He paused. It was a rhetorical question, but Porthos realized that he wanted the answer to be yes. _

_ "Is... Is this date going well?" He continued. "Will you go for a walk with me? I know of a lovely path through the park over there."He looked at Aramis, who was grinning and took his hand. They walked across the street and into a conveniently placed city park. _

_ Porthos was so lost in his thoughts that he barely felt Aramis tug at his arm. _

“ _ Porthos, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Aramis asked. _

_ His soft accented voice pulled Porthos out of his thoughts and he focussed back on his date. He grinned at the Aramis, earning a bright smile in return, “It depends on whether you will be angry if I say no.” _

_ Aramis laughed at that, his head tilting back, his brown curls falling backward away from his face. Goodness, Porthos thought, this man was breathtaking when he laughed without abandon. _

“ _ No, my dear Porthos, I don’t imagine that I could be angry with you for long. I was saying that I never want this day to end and that I'd like to continue seeing you. I don't know if this is a soulmate thing, I thought I had met her already, but that is of no consequence. So yes, the truth is I’ve had a wonderful time today. But if you'd rather end this now, I'll understand.” _

_ At Aramis’ comment, Porthos stopped in his tracks. He spun the younger man around by the shoulder to face him. “Is our date over? Does it have to end here?” _

_ Aramis stammered his response, “uhh… no… I mean... I was just giving you an out if this wasn’t going the way you wanted it to. I mean I come with a lot of baggage, you might change your mind once you get to know me better.” _

_ Porthos pulled Aramis into his arms, “It would take a lot to make me run. Come to my place? I’ll even let you cook me dinner.” _

_ Aramis laughed into Porthos’ shoulder and pulled back a bit to see the man’s face. “You are so gracious, what makes you think I can cook?” _

“ _ Blind hope. My talents lie in baking, not putting together actual meals.” _

“ _ Ahh well, you just happen to be in luck," Aramis smirked. "Give me a roast and I can do wonders, hand me cake mix and I will burn it.” _

_ Porthos laughed again and let go of Aramis as they resumed walking down the sidewalk. "How do you burn cake mix? It's like the simplest thing to make ever. Cake mix, eggs and water." _

“ _ You'd be surprised at just how much I can screw that up,” Aramis continued. “So, tell me how you got that scar across your eye. It’s an unusual spot for a one, so it has to be a pretty spectacular story.” _

_ Porthos brought his free hand to his eye and traced the familiar scar across his eye as he smiled. “It's not actually, it's a silly story.” _

“ _ Oh but Porthos,I want to hear it, I may need blackmail material sometime in the future.” _

_ Porthos laughed and pushed Aramis' shoulder, causing the man to stumble to the side a bit. “Alright then, I was 13 and wanted to learn how to fence. I fancied myself a professional and immediately challenged a fellow student to a duel. The student also happened to be a rival of mine, and both of us presumptuous in our youths. Anyways we didn't use dulled blades and we chose not to wear masks. I was lucky I didn't lose the whole eye and he was quite lucky his head was still attached to his shoulders.” _

“ _ Oh, that is the best story ever!” Aramis exclaimed. “Did you get in a lot of trouble afterwards?” _

“ _ I'm pretty sure that my name is on a fencing list of banned people for life.” _

“ _ There is an actual list?” _

_ Porthos stopped walking and turned to Aramis, smirking. “I don't know, I made that part up. Of course, we got into trouble, they grounded me for ages, but by then I didn't care about fencing anymore. Now, how did you get that scar on your forehead? It looks newer and less faded.” _

_ It was silent for a moment as Aramis froze his hand shaking as he reached up and touched the scar on his forehead. He traced the scar so long that Porthos became concerned enough to change the subject. He started to say something when Aramis spoke so soft he had to lean in to hear what he said. _

“ _ I was one of the first people to respond to a massive fire a couple of years ago. I was trying to pull someone out through the window and I slipped cutting my forehead. The blood coming out of that cut was ridiculous and I couldn't see anything. There were no survivors that night. I still wonder if I was able to get through that window... could I have saved someone... anyone...” _

_ Porthos' heart melted at the distress on Aramis' face and he moved toward him. He pulled the younger man into his arms and rested his head against his. “I'm sorry; I should have asked if you wanted to tell me about it. I didn't realize it would be such a horrific thing for you to remember. You can talk to me about it if you ever want.” _

“ _ I actually don't want to talk about it at all, can we change the subject?” Aramis asked. _

“ _ Of course,” Porthos responded. He grasped Aramis' hand and pulled him along towards his apartment. _

  
  


**March 10, 2016 - Conference Room – Athos**

  
  


It hadn’t taken Athos long to determine the meagre file they had on the Savoy massacre wasn’t going to be enough. They were going to need more information to help on this case and the file was small and thin. He put in a call to his old training officer Serge, who happened to work at the Savoy offices. Serge was more than happy to transfer all the files to Athos, in fact, he was quite grateful. The case, Serge explained, had been cold for seven years. It was high time someone else tried to solve it, if for nothing else but to find closure for the victims.

It would take most of the night to get those files, so Athos kept himself busy helping out at the office where he could. There weren't many people on shift that evening and it wasn't long before he was back in the conference room.

Athos sat down at the laptop that he'd left in here earlier and mulled over what to search for. He entered Savoy into the search bar and read a bit about the region and its history. He clicked on a link about the Savoy church and came across an interesting article about the rebuilding. The community had come together and had the church rebuilt in a matter of months. It was all thanks to an anonymous donation to the town that covered the entire cost of the church rebuilding. Athos made a note to visit the church to see if anyone knew who it could have been. He didn't find much more except service times and pastoral information, so he closed down that search.

Next, Athos re-read some stuff on their current murderer slash arsonist files. Their killer was smart, Athos would give them that, there was never any evidence left behind. No fingerprints, or hair follicles and never any witnesses. Each scene was similar in that there was always a woman dead from a neck wound and building burning near them. There were no other identifying marks he could see that would lead them to whom their arsonist was. Athos was ready to throw the towel in on this investigation, and would have if their arsonist would stop. Instead, their 'bad guy' had only increased his or her activity and showed no signs of stopping. So far there had been seven fires, two the first month, four the second. And so far this month being the third they had already had one fire.

Athos snapped the file shut in frustration and tossed it back onto the pile. He glanced at the clock on the wall, shocked to see it was almost five in the morning. He got up from the floor and left the conference room, pausing at Porthos’ door, preparing to knock. He wondered if they needed any help, but thought better of it a second later. Porthos and d’Artagnan could handle their part of the investigation and would ask for help if they needed it. He was also hoping that they had managed to get some sleep throughout the night. Athos went to his captain’s office where Treville was still watching the surveillance video.

“Captain?” Athos asked. The captain was in the same position they had left him in hours ago, only now he was tense and still as a statue. The man had the remote in a death grip in his hands and was frowning. “Have you been watching this all night?”

Treville blinked and looked at Athos. “No, actually I just started watching it again after a small nap. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. This is just so frustrating and I am worried about Aramis. Have you figured out why he was the target for abduction?” Treville asked.

“No sir, Porthos is working on that with d’Artagnan. I still can’t connect the fires from seven years ago to the ones that are current. I requested the files, but there is still a bit of time before they arrive. Not long, though.”

Treville nodded and pointed to the video. “I have watched this damn video a million times and this is the first time I noticed something. I wouldn’t have caught it if it wasn’t for you walking into the room.”

“What is it, captain?”

“Watch,” Treville said. He rewound the tape and paused the video right when Aramis ran through the emergency doors.

“Do you see something there in that reflection behind Aramis? Someone is standing just out of the camera’s view, but with that reflection, you can see a face. Or am I going crazy and have been watching this video for longer than I should've been?”

He pressed play, pausing it half a second later, Athos eyes widened. For a split second, there was a face in the reflection of the door.

"How did we miss this?" Athos asked. "We thought Aramis kept panicking at the men surrounding him. But knowing this, you can see he keeps looking at that person out of the camera's viewfinder."

"It wasn't that easy to find Athos, we should have turned the video over to the CSI team. They would have found it faster than us."

“Do you think this man had something to do with Aramis’ abduction or the fire at the hospital?”

“I don’t know, maybe this is our arsonist? He didn’t aid Aramis in any way, so I think it's safe to say that he's involved in the abduction. Either way, I want to know who this man is.”

Treville walked over to his computer and saved a copy of the screen for the lab specialists.

“Let me just email this to CSI and see if they can clear up the image and run it through facial recognition. Then let's see if we can’t look at those crime scenes from a different perspective.”

“Sir?” Athos asked a bit puzzled about where the captain was going with on his line of thinking.

“While we wait for confirmation of this image we may as well assume he might be the arsonist. Maybe his face appears elsewhere in the crime scene photos? If we go with the assumption he is the abductor and the arsonist, then Aramis is somehow connected. We need to look for commonalities between him and these fires. Maybe that will give us some clue about what’s going on.”

Athos nodded and followed Treville out of the office.

The precinct was set up with offices surrounding the outer part of the building. The captain had the largest office, situated the farthest back from the reception area. Most of the detectives had their own offices, which was a luxury compared to most other precincts. The building they were in was old but spacious and Treville had maximized the space as much as possible. In the opposite corner from Treville's office, down the hallway were the holding cells. The administration and accounting office’s commanded the entire upper floor. The labs and conference rooms were a floor below. The centre of the main floor held all the desks of the rest of the officers, called the bullpen.

When Treville and Athos walked out into the bullpen, they saw several young officers dropping off about ten boxes.

“Why are there so many files?” Athos asked one of the officers.

The young woman shrugged and handed Athos a file box labelled Savoy March 2009. “Officer Serge told us to drop all files on the Savoy Massacre. Here they are.”

Athos was so shocked he didn’t even know what to say to the man, instead just stared at the box in his arms.

“Rumour is," the officer continued. "The whole case was handled wrong and evidence disappeared. They labelled it as a cold case and pushed it to the bottom of the pile.”

"What did they handle wrong?" Athos asked.

"No one knows and the detectives on the case won't talk about it. All they say is that some lawyer named Ninon and Judge Richelieu covered the whole thing up."

“Well, the judge died a year ago of a heart attack so we can't ask him. Do you know what this Ninon person's last name is?"

The young woman shook her head, "No, not off the top of my head, but her name is written on several of the files we brought you today."

Athos looked around at the pile of boxes, a little overwhelmed. "Do you know which box?"

“The one you are holding,” the officer responded. “Savoy was the final fire in a string of fires that lasted three months.”

“Each of these boxes has a date and a location on it,” Treville commented. He signed the paperwork and sent the officers on their way. He then picked up two of the lighter boxes and began walking them to the conference room. “Bring them all in Athos, we’ll deal with that Ninon person once we situate ourselves.”

Athos spun around and looked at the boxes. Treville was right; each of the boxes had a different date on them. The year was the same in each box, four boxes for February, four in March and two in April.

10 boxes, 10 fires. Their current tally of deaths and fires was at 7, if these were connected, did that mean there were 3 more to happen?


	7. April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - Wedding Reception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you can blame the upcoming hurt for Aramis on Ihadenoughofthis, she told me I hadn't hurt him enough in this story and so he is now hurt.

**_April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - Wedding Reception_ **

  
  


“ _ This has been an amazing day my love,” Rene whispered to Adele, his wife. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to spend my life with than you.” _

_ They were dancing to their song, a cheesy ballad that had played at the restaurant on their first date. He spun her around and dipped her backwards, tenderly kissing her on the lips. Their wedding guests cheered, but the two of them didn't hear a thing. It was if there was a bubble surrounding them and they were the only two people in existence. Time stood still for this moment, the sound faded and there were only him and his bride dancing, twirling and gazing into one another's eyes. _

_ Rene was more in love than he had ever been. When Adele had appeared at the end of the aisle he’d stopped breathing. His heart had ceased pounding and the air in the church had thickened. She was radiant; her gorgeous red hued hair was in soft ringlets framing her face. She wore a delicate pearl tiara with a lengthy veil attached that draped her shoulders. Her dress framed her figure in cream coloured lace and she held a bouquet of yellow daffodils. Rene had not been able to take his eyes off of Adele, his heart swelling at the thought that he might be worthy of marrying this woman. _

“ _ This has been the wedding of my dreams my Rene, you have made me so happy,” Adele said. _

_ Rene spun Adele around once more as the music changed and the wedding party filed out on to the dance floor. They only managed a couple of chords in the new song, when the maid of honour and best man interrupted their dance. _

“ _ May I have this dance, beautiful?” Marsac asked. He held his hand out towards Rene and pulled the groom away from his bride. The made of honour did the same and soon both couples were sashaying all over the dance floor. _

“ _ Listen,” Marsac began. He spoke loud enough for the bride to hear once they met up on the dance floor again. "I must steal this dashing young man away for an hour max. We have business to attend to. I promise I will bring him back alive and unharmed, but in a much more inebriated condition." _

_ Rene pulled out of the best man’s silly embrace, “I am not leaving my wife on her wedding day, Marsac.” _

“ _ Oh, no Rene, I promise this is worth your time. Besides, I have already cleared this with her. I didn't quite explain how drunk I will get you, but she has her fair maidens to distract her from her loneliness. _

_ Marsac took Rene’s arm and began pulling him towards the doors to the main floor of the church. Rene only had time to glance at his wife, seeing her amusement, before being ushered through the door. _

“ _ Where are you taking me anyways?” He asked. _

“ _ Just down the road, I promise we will be back within the hour.” Marsac lets go of Rene once they were outside, and reached into the convertible vehicle that Marsac insisted on driving. He pulled out two glasses and half a bottle of some sort of liquor that Rene couldn’t make out in the darkness. _

“ _ Really, Marsac?” _

“ _ Last drinks to our singles lifestyle… humour me. There is a small lake around here somewhere and I thought we would spend it toasting your new life. Scout's honour, Aramis. I have cleared it with Adele, she does not mind.” _

_ "We were never scouts, Marsac." _

_ Marsac pouted, "Humour me, please? I only have your best interests in mind." _

_ Rene grinned and nodded. He took one glass and the bottle of liquor from Marsac's hands and looked towards the convertible. “Are we driving, because that is not a good idea.” He shook the bottle of liquor in his hand, sloshing its contents around. _

_ Marsac shook his head and motioned towards the lake. “No there is a little inlet just on this side of the lake. Maybe a 5-minute walk.” _

_ “Alright friend, take me to the inlet.” _

_ They laughed and walked off into the darkness towards the lake. _

 

**March 10, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

  
  


It was only a few hours since Isabelle left and Aramis had already made the most of his time alone. With his fear of enclosed spaces held at bay for the moment, he explored his little prison. His collar and chain prevented him from reaching the front of the cell and if he walked as far as he could to one side, extending his arm he could almost touch the sides of the cell. The only wall within easy reach was the one where a solid iron hook was embedded into the grey brick stones. Aramis assumed it was an exterior underground wall because the stone was damp and cold to the touch. It wasn't quite spring in France and despite the mild winter, it had been on the colder side the last couple of weeks. Aramis was grateful for the blanket Isabelle had left him for his good behaviour as the cell was rather cold.

He then wandered around the cell cleaning up the remaining food and wrapped it into the picnic basket. He tucked the basket under the small cot for later use. He didn't know how often he was going to get fed and decided to ration the remaining food just in case.

After tidying up he looked at the scrubs he had been wearing since yesterday and they looked horrible. The scrubs had barely survived the fire, the abduction, the beating and so on. They were scuffed and ripped in some places and were still damp from his impromptu bath earlier. He changed out of the scrub pants he was wearing to the thick and warm sweatpants Isabelle left for him in the basket. He was unable to get his top off with the collar around his neck and realised he would have to ask one of the guards for help. They slipped in, restraining Aramis' arms behind his back, laughing while they cut the top off of him. Aramis was never more grateful for having put on a long sleeved cotton shirt on underneath his scrubs. He writhed in their arms pulling away before they could cut his cotton shirt off. He backed off towards the cot and wrapped the large red picnic blanket around himself as if it was his armour. They left him be a moment later, still laughing as they locked the cell door.

Afterwards, Aramis sat down and huddled into the blanket for added warmth. He was having a hard time believing how compliant he had become in such a small amount of time. It felt as though he had no fight left in him and weary acceptance of his situation had taken over. There wasn't any way out of the cell without having the collar removed from his neck and Isabelle probably had the key with her at all times. He nestled a little farther into the blanket and frowned. He'd loved Isabelle more than anything in the world once and now he hated her for putting him in this position. He was beginning to despair that his friends would never find him. Was Porthos looking for him? Was d'Artagnan helping them? Was Athos furious? Was Treville trying his best to remain calm... did any of them actually miss him?

Sighing, Aramis rubbed his eyes. He knew all these insecurities were the result of being up most of the night struggling with his captivity. Of course, his friends were looking for him; they would move mountains to find him, just as he would for them.

It had only been a day, and Aramis missed his boyfriend so much. Regrets for the way he broke up with Porthos the previous morning ate away at his mind and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and beg forgiveness. Even just to see him again and see that smile light up on Porthos' face would suffice. Something told Aramis, though, that he wasn't getting out of this predicament anytime soon. Isabelle had him locked up in a basement, God only knew where, and it would take more than a miracle to find him.

Speaking of miracles, he wondered how far his friends had gotten in their research into his past. Had they figured out he was Rene the victim and not Aramis, the first to respond to the scene of the massacre? Had they managed to unlock the secrets to his past he'd so painstakingly tried to hide? Did they find Adele? About a year ago he realized that he hadn't hidden Adele's past as thorough as his own. It was that discovery that made him decide to tell Porthos, but Porthos had ended things before he had a chance. He'd forgotten about it after that and never did remedy the situation.

Aramis wondered if they watched the surveillance video at the hospital yet. Had the camera had caught his real abductor? Isabelle may be the mastermind behind this, but she wasn't the one who took him from the hospital. In hindsight, he was glad he'd made the mistake of not hiding Adele, it might be the one thing that would help his brothers find him. If Athos and Porthos caught on, they would be able to connect his abductor to Adele. The one thing in all this that Aramis couldn't figure out, was how Isabelle factored into all this. It would have to remain a mystery for now until he could ask her, and that was if she even wanted to tell him.

“You are thinking quite loud, I can almost envision what's tumbling around in that head, Rene.”

Aramis snapped out of his thoughts and looked to the owner of the voice addressing him. There was a man standing just at the edge the doorway to the room, dressed all in black. It made him seem more menacing as he hovered in the shadows. The man moved closer to the light and stopped just outside of the cell, near to the door. It was the same man that abducted him from the hospital and Aramis took a moment to glare at him before speaking.

“Victor. I'd love to say it's good to see you again, but there is never a time where it's good to see you,” Aramis said.

Victor chuckled and motioned for the guards to open the door of the cell. “And I can't say I've missed that snarky attitude of yours. I don't know what Adele saw in you.” He sauntered in once the door had opened and stood just out of Aramis' reach, hands on his hips.

Aramis tossed the blanket he huddled in onto the bed and got up from the cot. “Funny, I know exactly what she saw in you, and it's why you two never lasted.”

“Keep it up, Rene. I don't have the time or patience to deal with your attitude, I came here to have a little chat.” He waved for the guards to enter the cell and restrain Aramis. They wrapped their arms around his shoulders and pinned his arms behind his back. "It's been a long time since we last saw each other, and if I recall it wasn’t a very happy moment. I didn't appreciate being arrested and accused of those horrific things they claimed I did. It's high time you paid me back for all those years I lost in jail, don't you think Rene?"

Aramis smirked, “what are you going to do Victor, lock me up? That's been already accomplished. I doubt that Isabelle will allow you to ruin her plans for me, so what exactly is your agenda? Are you going to hurt me like you hurt Adele? I'm not stupid like you are; I don't need to beat up defenceless woman so I can feel like a man. Is that how you felt when you did it to Adele when she was alive? I would expect nothing else from a useless piece of crap--”

Victor lunged forward and grabbed Aramis by the jaw, squeezing tight. Aramis yelped and jerked his head back trying to loosen Victor's grip, but the man only pushed his fingers in harder. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain rippled through his jaw and up into his head in sharp spiking tendrils.

“No, you are correct; Isabelle wouldn't sanction any kind of harm toward you.” Victor growled. He loosened his hold on Aramis' jaw. He ran his other hand through Aramis' hair, stopping at the back of his neck and yanking his head backwards. “I'll just have to explain you antagonized me, but I don't think she'd have any issue if I taught you a lesson or two. Rene, would you like to learn a lesson?”

Aramis, in fact, did not want to learn a lesson. He didn't want to be in the same room as this man. He had fought alongside Adele for months to get Victor put behind bars for what he did to her. Neither of them ever wanted to lay their eyes on this man ever again. There were so many things he wanted to say to Victor, but he refused to and he wasn't surprised when Victor took his silence as obedience. There wasn't anything left to say to this man that hadn't been said all those years ago.

“But... maybe my lesson should be more of a psychological nature,” Victor continued. “I do so love hearing bones crack, but breaking hearts can be just as satisfying. Don't you think Rene?”

Victor let go of Aramis' jaw and pulled his head close to his lips, whispering a few words into his ear. Aramis' eyes widened and he shivered as his skin goose pimpled. “You bastard, how could you do that to her! How could you cut her throat like that and leave her to die alone?”

His anger at what Victor whispered in his ear boiled and bubbled over. He struggled out of the guard's grip and yanked his hair from Victor's hand. Aramis lunged for Victor, rage having taken over his movements. He tried to make a grab for the man's neck but stopped short when his neck chain was yanked backwards. Aramis hadn't been expecting it and he flailed for a moment before toppling to the ground.

The guards immediately jumped on top of Aramis to subdue him and pinned him to the ground on his side. He was panting hard, chest heaving in anger. “How you got out of jail before your time is beyond me, but when I get out of here, I'm going to make sure you never see the light of day again.” He growled. He lashed out with his unpinned leg, catching Victor on his ankle. Victor lost his footing and with a yelp he fell, landing on his backside.

“Son of a bitch!” Victor yelled. He sat up and took a hold of Aramis’ hair, yanking his head upwards and smashing it into the ground. The blow disoriented Aramis and his stomach roiled and he felt nauseated. Victor stood up and backed off for a moment before grabbing Aramis' wrist and pulling it upwards. He squeezed the wrist until Aramis cried out in pain from the grinding of the bones. Any more force and Aramis was sure his wrist was going to snap in two.

“You two,” Aramis heard Victor refer to the guards that still held him pinned to the ground. “Let him go, he isn't going to be able to get far in a moment.”

The guards immediately released Aramis and stepped back. Victor squeezed and yanked his wrist even higher, forcing Aramis to rise from the floor. Aramis extended his leg and used his other hand to brace himself. His wrist was throbbing so bad he couldn't think straight. His head pounded, his jaw throbbed and blood dripped down the side of his head from the blow a few moments ago. He panted and squeezed his eyes shut trying to hold back the whimper forming in his throat.

“I have to admit Rene; I didn't expect quite this level of defiance from you. I got out of jail on a technicality, a loophole you might say, and I know more influential people than you think I do. This was all swept under the table and you suspected nothing! You should have died alongside Adele that night in Savoy and somehow you slipped through our fingers. It's taken Isabelle and me seven years to find you. Somewhere along the way, she decided you were worth saving and I happen to disagree with that sentiment."

Aramis opened his eyes and glared at Victor. “I made sure that I wouldn't be easy to find after that night so I can’t say that I am disappointed that it took you two that long to find me. Do with me what you want, and mark my words, before I die I will destroy you for killing Adele." He expected to see anger in the man's eyes and instead he saw a sparkle of glee. His mind raced to figure out what Victor was planning.

“She didn't even have a chance to scream. Your bride, standing on the steps of the church her neck cut open, bright red blood dripping down her gorgeous long neck, staining her dress red. Oh, it was a beautiful sight."

"You are a sick bastard!" The revelation that Victor had been the one to cut Adele’s throat was tearing his heart his heart in two.

"Yes, you've mentioned this. Rene, just so you know, your dear Isabelle isn't the innocent you think she is. While I was murdering your wife, who do you think set the fire? Who barred the doors locking your Mama and Papa inside?"

Aramis' world went silent as memories of that night assaulted him. He could still hear the screams of his family members trapped in the church. He could still hear the sound of the church collapsing in on itself, killing everyone inside that was still alive. He’d lost Marsac that night as well and his friend's death was solely his fault. If he’d just listened to him and ran for the back door instead of racing towards the front for Ninon, Marsac could be alive today. But then, he thought, Ninon would be dead in Marsac’s place and things afterwards could have gone very different without her around. He was brought out of his memories a half a second later when Victor pulled his wrist once more.

"Rene, pay attention. I want you lucid for what comes next." Victor waited until he had Aramis' undivided attention. He raised his foot and stomped down hard on Aramis’s leg. The leg snapped in two with a loud crack that was drowned out by Aramis' screams.

It was several long moments before Victor finally let go of Aramis' wrist, allowing it to fall limp at his side. His leg was throbbing in pain and he was having a hard time focussing. He felt, rather than actually saw, Victor walk around his prone body laying the floor. He wondered what else this fool wanted from him. Victor had abused his Adele for years before he was finally tossed into jail for it. If he had known back then that Victor was out of jail he would have moved hell and high water to make sure Adele was safe. There was one thought that kept replaying over and over in his mind since Victor revealed his treachery, how had Adele felt in her last moments, lying on the front steps of the church, knowing that she was going to die? That thought would haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short his life was going to be.  

“I thought… you… said you weren’t going to break… bones,” Aramis said.

“Plans change, and you pissed me off.”

Aramis adjusted himself slightly on the floor, trying to turn around to see what Victor was doing behind him and hissed at the pain that ran through his leg, “Awww, did I hurt your last feeling?”

“Keep it up, Rene.”

“You’ve already said that this afternoon, you running out of original material?” Aramis grinned when Victor growled at his comment.

The man strode forward a couple of steps and nudged Aramis’ leg with his foot causing Aramis to cry out in pain. He tried to curl in on himself, to contain the pain somehow, but his limb felt heavy and numb. His body began to shake in violent tremors and he felt himself growing cold. The nurse side of Aramis knew that he was going to go into shock sooner rather than later and his heart sped up in panic. He couldn’t afford to be senseless while Victor was standing so close to him. He tried to slow his breathing, by taking deep breaths so he wouldn’t hyperventilate, but Victor just pressed on his leg again.

“S...stop. P...please!” Aramis sobbed. The edges of his vision were darkening and he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that were forming in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to pass out and sent a silent plea to God to please let him stay lucid. “Please.”

Victor laughed and nudged his leg one more time, causing him to cry out. Then he knelt down behind Aramis and ran his hand through his hair, “It’s been so long since I had this much fun! I don’t even care what Isabelle thinks at this moment, this has been so worth waiting seven years for.”

“Don...don’t touch… me.” Aramis stuttered. Nothing was co-operating anymore and he didn’t have the strength to pull his hair from Victor’s hand.

“Shhh,” His captor whispered in his ear. “Just close your eyes, stop fighting. You aren’t going anywhere and I look forward to many more nights just like this, me hurting you and then hurting you more.”

Aramis opened his mouth to throw back some retort to Victor when a shrill scream interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“VICTOR! What have you done?” Isabelle raced into the room and slid to the ground next to Aramis. “Bloody hell!.” Her long blond hair tickled Aramis’ neck as she pulled him in close.

“Isabelle. I can explain… he…”

“No, I will deal with you after I take care of him.” She glared at Victor causing him to back away slightly at the wrath on her face. “Oh no no my love, please don’t close your eyes. I will get you fixed, I promise.”

Aramis smiled. He couldn’t help himself, he was a tactile person and this was the first real touch he’d had in more than a day. He snuggled further into her arms, relishing the warmth of her body and the tenderness of her touch. His body was rapidly falling into shock now and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Victor! For the love of God, go and get something to brace this leg or so help me I will break you in far worse places! Get Dr Lemay.” Isabelle growled. “Rene? No… Aramis? Is that what you want to be called? I’ll call you that if you just keep your eyes open. Please, baby.”

“You realize that we’ll have to kill the Doc after he helps him right?” Victor said as he slipped out of Aramis’ cage.

Isabelle continued shushing Aramis, petting his head, tickling his neck and rocking back and forth. “Then kill him, Victor, I don’t know why this is an important issue right now. He’s expendable, right now Rene is not and you know that.” She diverted her attention back to the man in her arms and whispered to him, “Rene, sweetie, did you hear that? I’m going to make you better I promise.”

Aramis didn’t answer; he just let himself float until he didn’t hear anything anymore.


	8. March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan, and Treville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank CanadianGarrison for this nice long chapter. I was going to split it into two, but she said you would rather have all the information at once. 
> 
> <3 enjoy

**March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan, and Treville**

 

They were all seated around Treville’s office; the room was thick with tension and everyone was showing the stress of being awake all night. Athos admired these men; they were going to such great lengths to find their brother alive and safe. Athos stood off to the side leaning against the wall observing them all. The captain was staring at the video screen scrutinizing the face in the reflection. As if an identity for the man would appear like magic. Porthos and d'Artagnan huddled over the laptop, conversing over what was on their screen.

This room contained his family, and there was an empty feeling without Aramis around. These men were his brothers and he would move the world itself to support them in any situation they'd come across. Their current hurdle was trying to find one of their own who had been missing for almost 24 hours now. After a full night of researching Aramis' past, Athos felt as though a breakthrough in their case was imminent. He glanced down at the thick file he had compiled in the conference room earlier and sighed. The file's contents could blow this whole case wide open and maybe lead straight to their missing friend. He watched them all for a moment longer before clearing his throat and waiting until they all looked his way.

“So I am sure we all have news to share, so before I report my findings,” He started. He placed the file on the table, laying the information out in two small piles. "What did you guys find?"

“Aramis is Rene,” Porthos said without preamble. His voice was still tinged with disbelief at the whole situation. Athos also noted a hint of anger in the way he said Aramis, with a clear hissing of the s.

It didn’t shock Athos that Aramis was Rene. In fact, he had been expecting that from the moment the Savoy files had come in. After looking at what happened in Savoy, Athos didn’t blame Aramis for wanting to leave his past far behind. At the same time he also didn’t blame Porthos for the anger he was sure to be feeling right now. It wasn't every day your boyfriend went missing and you find out he isn't who he said he was. At some point Porthos’ temper was going to boil over and the lack of sleep he'd gotten would have emotions running high. It had occurred to him earlier, that maybe his partner couldn’t continue in this investigation. None of them should be involved, they were too close. He knew if they didn’t find Aramis or God forbid they found him dead, they would all blame themselves for the rest of their lives. They would always wonder if they had somehow screwed up the investigation, costing their friend his life.

“Knowing what you know now Porthos will are you able to continue in this investigation?” Athos asked. The two of them had known each other for years, having met in college before joining the police force, so Athos already knew the answer to his question. He hated even bringing this touchy subject up but it needed asking, and he needed to hear the answer direct from his partner.

Athos met Porthos’ eyes for a long moment before Porthos chose to speak. “I am going to pretend you didn’t ask that question as I have no intentions of quitting, so let's get this done,” his partner growled.

He nodded and looked to d’Artagnan next for an explanation on the Aramis being Rene situation. The younger man was attaching a cable to his computer to project onto the TV screen so they could all see.

“Ok, so Porthos and I figured out that Rene didn’t actually die in the fire. All traces of Rene d'Herblay vanish right after Good Friday 2009. There is no history, no birth certificate or school records. There is also no death certificate for Rene d’Herblay. Aramis de Vannes first appears in the spring of 2009 when he enrolled at Universite Descartes. There is no birth certificate for Aramis, nor is there any records preceding 2009.” D’Artagnan clicked a few things on the laptop, pulling up various articles on the screen and continued. “We had no evidence to support the theory that Aramis was Rene until we looked up Adele Bessette. She lived in Savoy, went to University nearby, graduated as a teacher and lived an average life.”

“Someone tried to hide some of Adele’s past and we think that someone was Aramis. He must have done a quick wipe of the most recent information about her like social media and so on. We did find an article in the Savoy daily paper shortly after Adele’s death,” Porthos said. He waited for d’Artagnan to pull the picture up on the screen before continuing. “It’s from Adele’s students as a memorial tribute to her. Look who is in the background!”

Everyone in the room went silent, even Athos. Adele was beautiful with her vibrant red hair and kind eyes. She was laughing in the picture and Athos could see why Aramis would have loved her so much. In the background was a blurry but recognizable Aramis, with hair much shorter than he wore it now. It was the most solid evidence they had so far of Aramis' living a previous life. Athos wondered why Aramis had gone to great lengths to hide himself, but had only somewhat hidden Adele. What had prompted Aramis to think that hiding anything was the best course of action? Had he known that someone was after him and Adele?

Treville gasped and said what they were all thinking, “He’s barely recognizable, but that is Aramis.”

Athos let the shock wear off the room for a few moments before continuing. “Ok, so we have established that Aramis and Rene are one and the same. I went into my research somewhat assuming that detail and managed to connect the Savoy fire to our current arsonists.”

D’Artagnan unplugged his laptop and set it aside as Athos spread out the two piles on the table a bit further.

“We didn’t find much of anything until the Savoy files arrived a couple of hours ago. But I did find out the Savoy church was rebuilt and funded by a generous, yet anonymous donation. I want to go inquire about the donation and see if anyone knows who it was. I would also like to visit each of the arson sites from 2009, just to get a clearer picture than what's outlined in the files. I was thinking Porthos and I should go tomorrow morning, it will be an overnight trip.” He looked at Treville while he was speaking, hoping the man would give him the approval to visit the locations.

“Will I be able to join you?” D’Artagnan asked, hopeful.

Athos looked at Treville, already knowing the answer before his Captain could shake his head no, “No d'Artagnan, you can't come. You are a civilian and at some point soon you are going to have to go back to being a civilian. It’s one thing to have you helping us here, but an entirely different thing to bring you out into the field."

“Fair enough,” d'Artagnan grumbled. Athos knew that he had agreed far too easy, but there just wasn't time for him to deal with it. Athos knew that d’Artagnan was just as worried for Aramis as the rest of them, but they still had a guest waiting and the rest of this file to go over. He was glad he explained to their guest he'd be waiting there for a bit before anyone could come listen to what he had to say.

“Alright, let's get back on track boys and finish this debriefing,” Treville said.

Athos nodded and pulled a set of pictures from one pile, laying them out on the table.  
“This is our current investigation. Each picture group represents one fire that happened at random places around Paris. Porthos and I have been able to connect them by how the fires were started, by how the victims were killed and by one detail we never mentioned to the media. In each of these photos, the victim was female, age 25, and died by a cut to the throat. The one thing we have not revealed to the public is that there is a marker left at every scene. A single cluster of bluebells left in the palm of every one of the dead woman's hands.”

Porthos, having seen them countless times, leaned forward and picked up a picture from each group and handed them to d'Artagnan. They were pictures of the murdered women murdered, each with blue flowers in their hands. In the background you could see the charred remains of the buildings; A book store, a coffee shop, a small market place and several others. D'Artagnan studied each picture, flipping through them as Porthos, Athos and Treville continued.

“The fires and murders have occurred every Friday for the last couple of months. Since we can't predict what the next target is we have been unable to stop them. We know that a couple of the women worked at the places that they were killed in front of. One thing just doesn't add up, though,” Porthos said. “The time of death for these women is approximately the exact same time the fire is set. The trigger for the type of fire our arsonist starts requires them to ignite it at the scene.”

“Do you think there are two people?” D'Artagnan asked. “Like you have both an arsonist and a murderer?”

“That was our newest theory, one that Athos and I were going to investigate before Aramis had to go and get himself abducted,” Porthos responded in anger.

“Porthos,” Athos chided. “I am positive you didn’t mean for it to sound like Aramis purposefully did this?”

Porthos only grunted in response and it made the hairs on d’Artagnan’s neck prickle in frustration.

“It would explain the differences in the crimes,” Porthos continued. “The fires are messy and unfocused, never at the same spot on the building, they burn fast sometimes and others are slow burns. It’s like whoever is setting them can’t settle on one thing, always changing their mind. The murders are methodical, though, the cuts always in the same spot, the victim always laid out the same way. Our killer is cunning and is no doubt sending a message.”

Athos pulled the other group of pictures from the second pile and spread them out over the table once Porthos pushed the other files out of the way. He looked at Treville and ran his hand through his hair, letting his fingers tangle in the ends. His captain had helped him with this part of the investigation and once they had started looking in the boxes all the puzzle pieces fell together painting a gruesome picture.

“The crimes from 2009 are way more like each other than our current ones. In each fire a couple was murdered on their wedding day and they were all in their mid-twenties. According to the investigation, they figured out they had two suspects, an arsonist and a murderer. Someone would start the fire while the other would lure out the couple. The detectives on this case could never connect any of the victims to one another and assumed it was random. None of the couples held bluebells in their palms like our current murders, but there was always a cluster of them found somewhere at the crime scene. The fires themselves were set in the exact same way as our current ones and were similar in that they all needed the person to be right there to trigger the fire.”

“Are the bluebells and the triggers the only way the fires and murders can be connected?” D'Artagnan asked. He didn't look up from the pictures he was holding in his hands and didn't bother looking at the pictures from 2009. One of the women in the photos looked vaguely familiar and he was wracking his brain trying to figure out where he had seen her from.

“No,” Treville responded. “There were ten fires in 2009, each happening on Fridays, with the 10th and final fire happening on Good Friday at the Savoy Catholic Church. If we assume these crimes are connected then we will have a fire tomorrow March 11th, one next Friday on the 18th and a last one on Good Friday, March 25, 2016.”

D’Artagnan’s faced paled when his uncle listed the dates of the possible upcoming fires. It meant they could still lose more people, probably women based on history if they didn’t figure this out soon.

“The fires stopped after Savoy,” Porthos commented. The man was looking at the photos from Adele's wedding, frowning. “You are telling me... that Aramis... That my boyfriend...”

D'Artagnan saw that Porthos was struggling to come up with the words that no one wanted to voice. Thankfully Treville spoke for them.

“Yes Porthos, what I am insinuating is, that if Aramis was the intended victim of the 2009 fires, then it’s safe to say that he may be the intended victim in this string of fires. With him missing it only solidifies this theory and it also means we have just two weeks to find him.” Treville said.

“We have to find him...” Porthos whispered. He was becoming increasingly agitated at the thought of never seeing Aramis again and d'Artagnan could feel him shaking his leg under the table.

“Did Aramis know any of the current victims? How did he survive the fire that night? Did he see who killed Adele? If so why did he never come forward? This is only creating more questions we can't answer!” Porthos rose from his chair, growling and slammed his palms on the table. “Not to mention why hide everything? Why don’t we have an autopsy report for Adele?”

“Calm down Porthos! We all understand, but getting angry isn't helping the situation.” D'Artagnan said.

Porthos shook in rage, slowly turning towards the younger man. “If he hadn't lied, we wouldn't be in this 'situation' as you call it.”

D'Artagnan sighed and set the pictures he was still scrutinizing, down on the table. “He lost everything that night Porthos, everything, his family, Adele's family, his friends and his new wife. Whatever the reason for hiding stuff, or for not coming forward or even creating a new identity, it wasn't for some trivial reason. Aramis wouldn't do something without a damn good reason and you know that. At least you should know that.”

Defeated, Porthos' shoulders slumped and he sat back down in his chair. “I'm not sure what I should know anymore.”

It was silent in the room after Porthos' comment, each man shifting nervously in their chairs or on their feet. They all felt the same, but their determination to solve both arson crimes and finding their brother outweighed the shocking truth that Aramis wasn't who they knew him to be.

“Well, then we should probably find him first right?' Athos asked the room's occupants. “Because then we can find out straight from Aramis' lips exactly what we should know going forward.”

“And that brings us to our next point of discussion,” Treville said. He walked forward with a thin, red file folder and placed it in Porthos' hand. The file contained a single sheet of paper, signed both by Judge Richelieu and by a lawyer named of Ninon De Larroque. It was a court order from Judge Richelieu, authorizing the sealing of several documents from the Savoy fire investigation. It was only able to be opened by Aramis de Vannes, Ninon de Larroque and the judge.

“What the hell is this?” Porthos exclaimed after Treville read the court order out loud.  
No one answered Porthos as they digested the news that there was yet another hurdle to overcome in their investigation. D'Artagnan knew the judge had died over a year earlier from heart failure and with Aramis missing, the only person they could rely on to open this file was this lawyer Ninon. D'Artagnan looked at Athos, a question about Ninon on his lips, but the older man answered before he could ask.

“Treville and I ran a search, but there isn't any Ninon de Larroque's in Paris or Savoy. We will have to do a broader search once this briefing is over. We do have someone waiting we need to speak to after this, but d'Artagnan could you search for this Ninon woman?”

D'Artagnan nodded and pulled his laptop close, entering Ninon's name into the search bar.

“Anyways,” Athos continued. “Treville and I suspect our missing information is contained in that file. What Aramis is hiding I don't know and I don't think we will know unless we can somehow find Ninon or ask the man himself. He obviously had a good reason and I suspect he knew someone would be after him. I think we have enough to go on to connect the fires and deaths, we have a motive and now we need to uncover as much of Aramis' past as we can.”

Nodding they began sorting everything back into piles and putting some of the stuff back into their individual boxes.

“D'Artagnan?” Treville asked a moment later when the table had been cleared. “You seemed pretty intent on one of the pictures; did you see something you recognized in it?”

 

_**January 2016 - D'Artagnan's office – D'Artagnan** _

_D'Artagnan was curled up in his hideous flowery chair trying to nap when his phone beeped. He ignored it._ _Beep. Sighing he picked up his phone and typed a message out to his pesterer._

_'Aramis, go away.'_

_'You are on shift! I need you for a patient consult in the ER.'_

_'Can't you ask someone else?'_

_'You are being unprofessional. Besides, she's pretty and I think she might even be single.'_

_'Now who is being unprofessional? There is only one woman for me... '_

_'Yes, yes, I am aware of your burning love for Constance, but she isn't in today. Are you coming?'_

_'Can't you call Louis?'_

_'No it's his day off and I am not calling in the head of psychiatry for this. She just needs someone to talk to. What is your deal?'_

_'No sleep last night. Yes, I am coming.'_

_‘*Eye Waggle* No sleep?’_

_D'Artagnan groaned at Aramis and hauled himself out of his chair, bones popping as he stretched. He frowned when his phone beeped again and looked down at another message from Aramis. It was a picture file and he opened it to reveal a pretty red haired girl. She was looking at something over Aramis' shoulder, her big green eyes wet with tears._

_'Aramis! Stop taking pictures of the patients without their knowledge.'_

_He deleted the picture immediately and grabbing his white lab coat he made his way towards the ER._

 

**March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan, and Treville**

 

“This is Jennifer Lochley, she came into the ER after her friend abandoned her on their vacation,” D'Artagnan explained after Treville pulled out the picture and handed it to him. “She panicked, being alone in an unfamiliar city and fell down a set of stairs, breaking her ankle. The doctors had already provided us with the x-rays and left it up to Aramis to cast it. But she was panicking because her friend had taken all her medical information with her.”

“That makes sense why she was killed outside of the free clinic near the hostels. Wait... do you think...” Athos began. He walked over to the pile of photos of their current crimes scenes and pulled one out, eyes widening.

 

_**Early February 2016 – Used Bookstore - Aramis and Athos** _

_“Aramis,” Athos hissed. “This is the fourth bookstore you've brought me to today. Can't you just use the internet like everybody else and search for the book online?”_   
_“This is the one Athos, I swear. I will find that copy of The Three Musketeers today, I can feel it.”_

_“Have you ever thought it odd that the entire group of people we know have names like in the book?”_

_“How is Henri d'Aramitz even close to my name?” Aramis responded. He raced to the back of the bookstore looking for the classic novel section, reading off the genre titles until Athos couldn't see him in the depths anymore._

_Athos decided he wasn't going to follow his friend and instead leaned on the cashier's desk waiting for the inevitable disappointment._

_“He sounds determined,” The woman behind the desk, Genevieve, according to her name tag, asked. “What is he looking for?”_

_Athos smiled, “Oh you have no idea how determined he is and can be when he is looking for something. He seems to have focussed on owning a certain copy of an old book called The Three Musketeers.”_

_The woman's eyes lit up and she grinned, “We actually have several copies of--”_   
_She was interrupted by a gleeful shout from within the depths of the bookstore, followed by the appearance of Aramis holding three different copies of the book._

_“How many do you need?” Athos asked._

_The books were placed on the counter with great care and arranged side by side before Aramis turned to Athos, “One is the mass paperback, one the hard cover and one is unabridged.”_

_“But you absolutely need all three?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Athos looked towards the woman hoping she would catch his plea for help if she would only look at him. Instead, the woman, a petite blond thing, was giggling at Aramis' excitement over the books._

_“You can choose only one, Aramis,” Athos said in his most stern voice._

_“You are not my boyfriend, Athos.”_

_“No, but your actual boyfriend will be put out that you bought three of the same book.”_

_“If you buy the most expensive one,” Genevieve offered. “I'll hide the other two and you can come get them later?”_

_Athos' eyes widened in shock and he frowned at her, “Do not encourage him!”_

_“What a wonderful idea! Sold!” Aramis grinned and handed her his credit card, bowing slightly as she handed him the bag with his precious book._

_Porthos was going to murder them both._

 

**March 10, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan, and Treville**

 

Athos held up the picture of the small blonde woman for the room to see, “This is Genevieve. She worked at a bookstore on the other side of Paris. We went there looking for some ridiculous book Aramis wanted and that bookstore was burned down. It seems like all our victims were women Aramis has been in contact with!”

“D'Artagnan did you recognize any of the other women?” Porthos asked. He walked over to the pile and joined Treville in flipping through the pictures.

“No, sorry, just Jennifer. Though I suppose some of these other women could be patients Aramis treated. I am not always needed to do patient consults down in the ER.”

“Is Aramis down in the ER often?” Athos asked. “I thought he was a paediatrics nurse.”

D’Artagnan shrugged and shook his head, “We all rotate and all do our part in other departments. Aramis is the most senior nurse, so he spends more time downstairs in the ER. You both know he likes the thrill of a busy day, even if it means people are hurt for it to be busy.”

“Nadia!” Treville shouted a moment later. “This is Nadia from the coffee shop Aramis and I went to last month! She was new and took a liking to him immediately, even more so when he admitted he had a boyfriend.”

“How did we not recognize any of these women when we were looking at them before?” Athos asked.

Porthos shook his head. “None of these women were more than a passing acquaintance when we were spending time with Aramis. Here,” he said, passing Athos another picture. “This is Amelie. Aramis and I were shopping at the marketplace earlier this month. He was being silly and smashed his basket into hers, knocking oranges and apples everywhere. The two of them were laughing like fools chasing the fruit as they rolled under the carts and down the street. I'd forgotten that happened, we were so busy with these murders, I was actually annoyed he was having fun. We fought that night over priorities; I accused him of trivializing these murders by fooling around and pulling me away from the office.”

“No wonder you got busy,” D’Artagnan said in an annoyed voice. “Every time Aramis would meet a woman, she would be killed and a new fire started. You both were so damn caught up in this investigation, did you realize what time of year it was? He was trying so hard to not bother you Porthos, that is why he took on extra shifts. But those extra shifts were also keeping him from thinking about this time of year. He was floundering and neither of you were of any help to him!”

“That's not fair d'Art,” Athos said. “You can't toss the blame for this on us, just because we were doing our jobs. Aramis is a grown man and can look after himself.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” D'Artagnan was so conflicted, he knew none of them were to blame, but he was so tired and angry.

He hated that Porthos was so upset with Aramis over lying to him and he was worried that someone was hurting his friend. He didn't want Aramis to be alone during this time of year, especially since he was finally understanding what had happened to make him so frazzled at Easter. But at the same time d'Artagnan felt the need to point out how unfair Porthos had been. Both in breaking up with Aramis a year ago and backing off again this year. He wanted to protect his dearest friend and how could he do that when they hadn't even realized that Aramis was being followed…

D’Artagnan cringed then; he realized that whoever had murdered all these women had done so because they were following Aramis around. This person had been watching Aramis for months and none of them would have realized it. They wouldn’t have been able to have protected him regardless of whether they knew or not. The guilt his friend would experience once he knew why these women died would tear the man up and break his heart.

“Do you think that whoever has been killing was jealous of Aramis spending time with these women?”

“So maybe someone from his past is jealous, like an ex-girlfriend?” Treville asked.

Porthos slammed his fist down on the table in Treville’s office for the second time that morning and growled, “Since we know nothing about his past as Rene, and Aramis didn’t deem anyone worthy enough to know; how is the revelation of a jealous ex-girlfriend going to help us?”

D’Artagnan bristled; how Porthos could dare get angry over his precious feelings when his boyfriend was missing he had no clue. Sure he was upset that Aramis had lied, and he was sure that whatever he was feeling didn’t compare to Porthos’ feelings of betrayal, but finding Aramis was paramount to this anger.

“I’m trying so hard Porthos, to give you the benefit of doubt in this, but you keep blaming Aramis and you don’t know the whole story!” D’Artagnan said, his voice rising in anger.

“I’ve been lied to our whole relationship! I have every right to be as angry as I damn well want to!”

D'Artagnan and Porthos were both standing now, noses close to touching. They were glaring at each other, tiny little imaginary daggers stabbing each other violently.

“Gentlemen, being angry that Aramis lied to us isn’t helping anything. Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to find him faster. You can be as angry as you want when he is safe and preferably under lock and key so we don't lose the idiot again. Understand?” Treville said. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited while the two men took a deep breath and backed off from each other.


	9. March 10, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, mostly filler, but next week is the fire :)

**March 10, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

 

Aramis woke up still cradled in Isabelle’s arms and he felt safer for it. There was a part of his mind where alarms were blaring at the danger of being so vulnerable in front of this woman, but he didn’t care. Isabelle was running her fingers through his hair, lightly washing away blood and dirt from his head wound. The touch felt heavenly and he allowed himself to drift off again, sighing into her embrace.

“Hello my love, welcome back,” Isabelle said softly. “You gave me quite the scare.”

She dipped a cloth into a bucket of soapy water and wet his neck, wiping away the grime that coated his skin after almost two days of being here in this dusty cold cell. Aramis moaned when the warm cloth touched his skin, relishing the heat. It was the first real warmth he’d felt since being locked up in this place. Since he’d been here, there’d been no comfort, only beatings, and loneliness. He could probably tack psychological torture to the growing list as well.

He was trying so hard not to allow the ghosts of his past to overwhelm him as they normally did at this time of year. Victor’s arrival and the later violence caused an enormous crack in his resolve and he could feel the icy tendrils of anguish gripping him, pulling him down. Both the beating by the guards... Yesterday? The day before? As well as Victor’s breaking of his leg left Aramis feeling completely undone. His broken leg throbbed in time to his heartbeat and his now swollen wrist left his fingers tingly from lack of blood flow. Despite all the pain he was in right now, he still found himself craving someone else’s touch, even if that meant it was Isabelle.

“That idiot Victor has gone to get a doctor to help with your leg, try not to jostle it too much. In the meantime let's get you all cleaned up and back to your handsome self yes?”

“Why,” he asked, cringing as she dabbed a little too forcefully at the wound on his head. “Why are you doing this Isabelle?”

She dipped her hand into the water again, pouring the liquid over his forehead and letting droplets trickle down the side of his face before wiping them away. As one stray droplet wandered its way down Aramis’ neck, all traces of calm vanished and awareness slammed him back into his right mind. He realized the greatest irony of all, the neck chain was finally off his neck, but with his broken leg, there was literally nothing he could do about it. He was well and truly stuck here with this mad woman.

“We discussed this,” Isabelle responded. “You and I will be together again. No one will get in my way. All those women Rene, the ones you paid special attention to… you know they had to die right?”

“Wh-- what do you mean?”

“That barista, the bookshop cashier, even that vile little red head at the hospital. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting? Those women aren’t right for you Rene, and because of that, they all had to die.” Isabelle said angrily. In her agitation, she took a chunk of Aramis’ hair yanking it roughly until he couldn’t suppress the hiss as pinpricks of pain raced across his scalp. “I mean I couldn’t exactly cut someone’s throat myself, but Victor… well, you know how much he adores killing things.”

“You followed me? Y--you killed them all just because you were jealous?”

Isabelle giggled and let go of his hair. She smiled down at him pleased with herself and her actions over the years. “No baby, I just told you Victor did the killing. You need to learn to listen better, I hate repeating myself.”

Isabelle continued her diatribe while she dribbled more soapy water into Aramis’ hair. “Anyways, those women needed to be dealt with. They weren’t the right fit for you, my love, not like I am. I was always meant to be the one you were with. Remember in high school when we were learning about Romeo and Juliet? That’s us! Don’t you see?”

Aramis frowned. His thoughts were still on all the women Isabelle and Victor killed. All those families losing their loved ones because of some psycho who couldn't let go of the past. Even if it had been mere seconds of quick conversation, he was responsible for their deaths. This was all his fault. If he'd died with his family that night, no one else would have been killed. Porthos wouldn't have had to deal with a good for nothing boyfriend and he wouldn’t need to deal with someone who couldn’t even keep it together around Easter. Porthos wouldn’t even need him because Porthos wouldn’t have ever met him… But... It wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now. The mere thought he was responsible sent his emotions spiraling out of control, and he couldn’t risk that right now. There would be time for guilt later.

Aramis could hear Isabelle rambling on about their future lives together and he tuned her out, uninterested in picket fence life she was planning. Something was niggling at his mind and he realized that through this entire ordeal Isabelle not considered Porthos to be a threat. Aramis had been with Porthos for a long time and yet she killed only the women he’d come in contact with for less than a minute. How was his boyfriend not factor in Isabelle’s quest for revenge?

“But… Porthos?” Aramis interrupted, unable to stop himself from mentioning his boyfriend.

“He’s irrelevant to me. What you two have is nothing worth mentioning, a grain of sand in the hourglass. You two would never last for long, much less be suitable for marriage.” Isabelle responded, confident in her answer.

Aramis bristled, his muscles stiffening in response and he growled low.  How dare she? How could Isabelle trivialize his relationship with Porthos? The man was not an experiment. Porthos, along with Athos and d’Artagnan represented the most important people in his life. If he ever got out of here, there wouldn’t be a moment where he would regret them ever again. Aramis remembered the horrible things he said to his boyfriend the other morning about him not being his soulmate, and he bitterly regretted those words. He hoped that the man would forgive him and if he ever got out of here, he would make sure that nothing ever came between them again. Porthos deserved far more than Aramis could ever give him, but he wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

“Does he need to be relevant?” Isabelle asked. There was a malicious hint to her voice that pulled Aramis back from his musings. He realized if she came to believe that Porthos was a true threat, that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him in cold blood. He always thought that he would never recover from his parents or Adele’s death, but to lose Porthos? That was something he would never recover from. He made the quick decision, that if he lived, he would never let Savoy take over his life again. He would move on.

“N--No, no… I wa--was just wondering about him.” Aramis stumbled his response.

He swore he could hear Isabelle growl under her breath. “Then don’t ask me about him again, he is your past. I am the present and the future, are we clear?”

“Crystal,” he responded.

The next hour and a bit were filled with an all consuming pain. It began in his leg and radiating through every fibre of his body. He'd be remiss in acknowledging that some of the pain was from his heart as he tried to not think about Porthos. Dr Lemay and Victor arrived shortly after Isabelle finished bathing him. Aramis was still thanking God that she had left certain areas alone for him to deal with later. Just as the doctor arrived Isabelle locked the collar around Aramis’ neck once more, shortening the chain so he was forced to stay on the bed either sitting or lying down, but not standing. Not that it mattered whether he could stand or not, he already knew it wouldn’t be an option for a while. His leg would keep him immobile for quite some time. 

Lemay was a frazzled looking doctor, tall and thin with brown hair. He looked like he was dragged out of the middle of his dinner and forcefully brought here to attend to him. Of course, Aramis knew that was a fact since he was currently sporting a broken leg that needed repairing. Dr. Lemay carried a portable x-ray machine and various supplies meant to help Aramis with his broken leg. It was obvious that Lemay was familiar with Victor and Isabelle in some way because the man seemed to know exactly what was required of him. It left Aramis wondering how many other women had been in this predicament before meeting their end at Victor’s hands. How many women had Dr Lemay patched up and/or repaired before they had died? Did he even know what was going on?

The next few minutes were filled with excruciating pain as the doctor palpated his leg, twisting it, and finally pulling with everything he had until his leg was in a straight position again. A walking cast was quickly wrapped around his leg and instructions were given for care of the appendage. None of which Aramis cared about, Victor broke the leg and Isabelle could take care of the damn thing. Not once during this entire ordeal, was Aramis spoken to directly, and shame coloured his cheeks at the thought that he was nothing more to these people than an object to covet.

Awareness floated in and out for the next while and Aramis knew he’d been given a strong drug to ease the pain in his leg. When the drug kicked in and lucidity returned, he noticed that Dr Lemay was still in his small cell. The man was chained to the bars by his wrists, near the door to the cell. The doctor was hunched in on himself, shivering at the chill that settled into the small prison in the night.

“What time is it?” He asked Dr Lemay.

“S--some t--time past m--midnight I assume,” Lemay responded, shivering violently. He was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of his work scrub pants, which was hardly any protection from the dampness of the room.

“This isn’t your first time helping out Victor and Isabelle’s prisoners, is it?” Aramis asked. He shifted on the bed and rolled to his side, careful of his leg. Despite the drugs coursing through his veins, the appendage still ached.

“No,” Lemay responded. “You’re the first male, though.”

“Really?" Aramis said. "You know you could be held as an accessory to the murders right?”

Lemay sighed and shifted against the bars, hoping for a more comfortable spot. “It’s not like I was ever given a choice. This is the first time they haven’t let me go afterwards.”

Aramis was unsure of how to respond to the man, and he paused for a long time thinking about what to say. He was silent for so long, that when he did speak he startled the doctor out of the slight sleep he’d managed.

“It’s because I am their endgame, doctor. This is the end, I am the end… you know they are going to kill you right? You’ll be lucky if you make it till morning to see the sunrise.” Aramis said bitterly.


	10. April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - The Fire pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. The reason for Aramis being the way he is every year around Easter :) I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. It took me ages and many rewrites to get done. You can thank Tazzyjan for reading this scene over and over and over and offering advice until I had it where it needed to be.

**_April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - The Fire pt. 1_ **

 

_ “To wedded bliss!” Marsac lifted the glass of bourbon and clinked against Rene’s own glass. He swallowed the bourbon in one gulp and poured himself another helping of the liquor. The two men were leaning against a bench someone had placed out here, so people could enjoy the view of the lake. Right now, both men were staring out at the lake that glimmered in the light of the full moon. They were far enough away from the church that you could only hear a faint thrum of music coming from the reception. Despite the full moon, the church was far enough away and behind a bunch of trees, that you couldn’t see it from where both Marsac and Rene were. _

_ Marsac glanced sideways at his best friend, the man had looked so happy today, but now Rene looked defeated and his shoulders were hunched in. His friend looked lost in sad memories and he hadn’t touched a drop of his drink he’d given him in celebration of his wedding day. Marsac frowned, he’d thought that all the sadness and paranoia was over. After all that Rene and Adele had been through, they deserved every bit of happiness they could get. Apparently jealous that Adele had found happiness with Rene, Victor had teamed up with Rene’s ex, Isabelle, and the havoc the two unleashed on them was devastating. It all came to a head when Victor attempted to abduct Adele after dinner one night and brutally assaulted Rene on a very public street. Victor was arrested and after a lengthy court battle that Adele's lawyer sister had headed, Adele’s ex-boyfriend was finally in jail. With Victor’s arrest, Rene’s psycho ex-girlfriend, Isabelle, had gone to ground. No one knew where she had run off to, but as far as Marsac was concerned he hoped she was in hell. The night of Victor's incarceration, Rene dropped to his knees and begged Adele to marry him. _

_ What followed was a hasty rush to marry on the earliest date they could get, which was Good Friday. Both families were well known in the community and great friends with the pastor and Father Thomas was more than happy to accommodate a wedding on Good Friday, despite it being forbidden by the church. If the date on the marriage certificate said April 11, 2009, instead of the 10th, no one would mention it was wrong. Marsac was at first confused at the hasty marriage plans, but in the months that followed, the reason grew and swelled within Adele. At nine months pregnant and almost ready to have the baby, Adele radiated beauty. They would make the most amazing parents to this baby and Marsac couldn't be happier for them. _

_ “Did you ever find out the sex of the baby?” Marsac asked. He’d noticed over the last few minutes Rene had tensed up and was shivering  a bit. It was a warm night,  so he knew that it had nothing to do with the weather. _

_ He watched as Rene relaxed and smiled against the bench, grateful for the interruption of the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. “Yes, we found out ages ago and I am not telling you, Adele wants it kept a secret."  _

_ “I’m sorry I wasn’t around more often during this past year, Rene.” Marsac apologized. _

_ Rene paused and looked over to his friend. "No need, we have all been busy. You should  visit more often, Adele misses you.” Rene couldn’t keep the teasing smile out of his voice. It was an old joke between the three of them. Adele tolerated Marsac and was content to only see Rene’s best friend three or four times a year. _

_ “I am perfectly happy living in Paris, my friend. The city is so alive compared to this small town and you know I thrive on excitement.” _

_ Rene tossed his head back and laughed, Marsac was speaking the truth. Growing up together in this small town, his friend had always claimed he would one day move to the big city and become famous. Marsac wasn’t exactly famous by any means, but he was the manager of a well-known car rental agency in Paris and the job and city life suited his friend quite well. It made Rene happy to know that his friend was content.  _

_ The conversation died off for a few moments as Marsac poured himself more bourbon and Rene’s thoughts strayed again to Victor and Isabelle. Since Victor went to jail, both he and Adele were constantly looking over their shoulders for his ex-girlfriend. Everyone seemed to be happy that Isabelle had vanished, thinking she was out of his life for good, but Rene knew she would be back. Isabelle’s craziness and her threats were never something to take lightly, and because of that, Rene was considering moving his small family to Paris so they could blend in among the millions of people. In the end, he couldn’t do it, both of their families were here and Adele would want to be near her parents. Also, his parents would have his hide for taking their only grandchild away from them. _

_ “Stop thinking about those two psychos Rene, they are long gone.” Marsac’s voice drifted into his thoughts. _

_ Rene turned back to his friend and smiled bitterly, “Are they, though? Don’t for one second underestimate those two Marsac, Adele and I are no safer now than we were when Victor was free. Isabelle is still out there somewhere plotting her revenge...  just because Victor is in jail doesn’t mean she is unable to access him. I never told you the real reason for Adele and I rushing this marriage; we were waiting until Victor’s trial was over, but we’d only found out a couple days earlier that she was pregnant. Then when we told our families, her parents demanded that we get married before the baby was born. Both of our families are devout Catholics, so babies born out of wedlock are still considered scandalous.  And with the Bessette name already under scrutiny thanks to Victor and Isabelle, we had no choice.” _

_ “All that matters is that you shower that baby with love, you know that the name attached to it means nothing,” Marsac said. _

_ “Adele feels that having my family name is going to keep our daughter safe. I am not sure how, her family has far more money and resources than mine does, but it’s how she feels.” _

_ “Hey, don’t think about that now, this should be the happiest day of your life. Next to holding your baby, nothing else should compare.” Marsac said. “I am going to be the favourite Uncle and spoil that baby rotten. Wait… Did you say, daughter? Aha! You revealed the sex of the baby, Adele is so going to kill you!” _

_ Rene froze in the realization of his mistake. Crap. “Do not say a thing to my wife about what I said, Marsac. She’ll burn us both alive and dying in a fire is a horrific way to the ends of one’s life.” He laughed. _

_ “I guess you would know, being a nurse and all,” Marsac said. “Do you see a lot of burn victims in the ER?” _

_ Rene nodded. “Being burned is one of the worst things to go through, but 70% of all deaths in a fire are caused by smoke inhalation. The soot coats your lungs, causing them to produce mucous and then breathing becomes impossible.” _

_ “That is a horrible way to die…” Marsac sighed. _

_ They sat in companionable silence for a bit longer until the wind picked up, rustling the trees and shrubs in the area. Marsac shivered and pulled his rented jacket in a bit tighter around his body. The wind was still chilly in the early spring and neither of them had thought to bring anything more than their suit jackets. “We should head back soon, everyone will wonder where we are.” _

_ Marsac tilted the bottle of bourbon and took a long draw of the liquor, cringing as it burned it’s way down his throat.  With any luck, the alcohol would warm his blood for as long as it took to get back to the church. _

_ He stood up from the bench and stretched, groaning as several muscles popped and took the glass from Rene’s hand, preparing to drink that as well. _

_ “Slow down Marsac, you’ve had more than enough.” Rene took the cup from his hand and tossed the bourbon out into the grass. Marsac was immediately annoyed with his friend for wasting alcohol like that. “Come on, let's--” _

_ Another violent gust of wind interrupted Rene’s words and brought a smoky scent with it that seemed out of place. Marsac scrunched up his nose at the smell, wondering who was having a campfire in this wind. That was when he noticed that it was suddenly quiet in the area. All the birds that were twittering had gone silent and, most disturbing of all, the hint of music from the church stopped. He spun around to look at Rene, who had his own expression of confusion on his face, looking to see if the other man had any clue what was going on. That was when he heard the first of the screams sound throughout the area. _

_ “What in God’s name was that?” Rene asked, visibly startled by the sound. _

_ In the span of one wind gust to the next, the atmosphere around the lake changed. There was smoke rolling into the area, making the air hazy and thick.There was a soft orange glow coming from the direction of the church and Marsac shared a panicked glance with Rene. _

_ “What--” Marsac was about to ask, when Rene took off towards the church full speed. _

_ The church was ablaze when the two men broke through the treeline and into the church grounds. The steeple on the church was almost completely engulfed and flames poured out of the open windows surrounding the building. Rene immediately ran for the closest doors; the ones in the back that led to the offices and the back of the pews. Marsac slowed down as he neared the building, stumbling in confusion over what was going on. His brain wouldn’t catch up with what he was seeing. How was the church on fire? What had happened? He could hear the screaming of the people inside, but he couldn’t figure out why no one was coming out of the church.  _

_ When he reached the back doors he found Rene yanking on them, fingers fumbling at the latches. “I can’t… they won’t…” _

_ Marsac motioned for Rene to step aside and pulled on the doors himself, growling in frustration when they wouldn’t budge. Then he decided to push instead of pulling on the heavy wooden doors and tripped as they swung inwards with ease. Now that they were open, heat and smoke wafted out of the entrance, causing both himself and Rene to stumble back and cringe.  _

_ Running into the church they split up to check the small offices and rooms on either side of the hallway. It took mere seconds to check the spaces, and even in that quick time, the fire had hungrily taken more of the church. _

_ Inside the large room where they held mass for the congregation, where peace and love were preached, it was chaos and hell fire. The altar was in flames, the cloth laid upon it crumbling to ash as it burned. The daffodils Adele had hung from each pew had wilted under the heat and would soon succumb to the inferno. Church banners and tapestries that hung from the ceilings were burning and the artificial lights on the ceiling were flickering and dying. Both men stood transfixed in the middle of an aisle as the ropes holding the large cross above the altar snapped. The cross came crashing down onto the pulpit, smashing into the communion wafers and wine that were usually offered up during mass. _

_ The cross' splintering broke the two men out of their reverie and they ran towards the stairwell to the basement of the church. The sounds of people screaming were beginning to die off. Marsac couldn’t help but remember the conversation earlier about smoke inhalation and how it was the main cause of death in a fire. The thought that Rene might lose his entire family tonight was a frightening concept and wasn’t sure how the man would survive this. He sent a quick prayer to the heavens that people would still be alive when they reached the reception hall. _

_ The basement of the church was larger than the main floor of the building. The basement hallways formed a cross shape with several rooms branching off from those four sections. The stairs opened up into one of the arms of the cross, right beside the center. The reception hall, the largest of the rooms in the basement, was at the bottom of the cross, the furthest distance from the stairs. Barely pausing once they hit the basement, the two ran down the polished floors to the doors at the end. _

_ At the doors to the reception hall, Marsac saw large chains looped and locked through the handles. The reason for the lack of people escaping from the church boiled down to the fact that they couldn't even get out. Who would do something like this? He grabbed the chains and pulled, hoping to somehow remove them from the door. That having failed he looked around for something to smash into the chains and realized that the emergency axe was inside the room. _

_ “What the hell? Why wouldn’t there be an axe out here?”  _

_ Smoke was billowing out from underneath the doors causing him to cough hard and struggle to draw in a full  breath. Glancing around Marsac noticed the rest of the basement, while hazy with smoke, was not on fire. It seemed as though whatever happened here, only the hall and the main floor was on fire. He ran back down the hallway to see if there was another axe or something he could use to break through the doors. _

_ In the meantime Rene was still struggling to pull the chains off the doors, yanking as hard as he could and crying out in frustration as they wouldn’t let him in. He swore he could hear his Mama calling out to him, looking for her son in her last moments of life. In the back of his mind, Rene already knew he was going to lose everyone tonight, everyone he loved and cherished. Rene clawed at the door, crying, his nails scratching at the wood. “Adele...please don’t leave me…” He cried. _

_ He hit the door with his fist and slid to his knees, resting his head on the frame of the doors. The room on the other side of these walls was silent, no more screaming or coughing, and no one banging on the walls trying to get out. What must they have thought when the fire began and they couldn’t get out because the doors were chained shut, barring their escape. He’d let his family down by not being here sooner to save their lives. If only he’d stayed at the reception and not gone with Marsac to the lake, then he would be in there with them.  Dead maybe, but at least he would not be alone. _

_ Marsac ran back towards the reception hall, having been unsuccessful in finding anything close by to break the chains on the door. The scene before him was heart-rending and at the same time frightening. Rene was on the ground, shaking and sobbing into the door frame, his one hand flat on the door like it was a connection to what was in the reception room. The frightening part was the smoke that had been billowing out of the edges of the door frame before, was not exiting the space anymore. He could see the smoke, now a deep brownish color,  hovering underneath the door, moving in and out like the whole room was breathing. He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant but knew that nothing good could come from opening those doors to figure it out. _

_ He walked quickly to Rene’s side and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing it in silent support.  _

_ “We have to get out of here my friend. Whatever is happening behind those doors isn’t good.” He knew Rene would need his strength and determination to get out of here. That thought gave him the drive to push his own emotions into the back of his mind for now. He wrapped his hands around his friend's waist and pulled him to his feet, but was forced to let go as Rene grabbed the door handles with an angry shout. _

_ “NO! No, Mama! Papa!” Rene shook the door, pulling at the chains as if that alone would make them admit him into the room. He was sobbing now, each word dripping with so much anguish that it tore Marsac’s heart into shreds. _

_ “Stop! Stop!” Marsac shouted. He pulled at his friend again, trying to stop him from rattling the doors.  _

_ “How dare you ask me to leave them, Marsac, they’ll be just fine if I could just  get the doors open." _

_ “They are dead, Rene. Let them go… Stop disturbing the doors! Can’t you see something’s happening? Look how the room breathes!” _

_ Marsac tried to get hold of his friend, but the man turned to face him and pushed him away. Anger replaced the devastation in Rene's eyes and he clenched his fists and backed up against the door in denial. "NO! Do not touch me Marsac. Just get the doors open.” _

_ "I can't open them," Marsac whispered. He suddenly knew exactly why the smoke had turned brown and why it was moving in and out of the room… backdraft. There was no oxygen source in the room, no windows or external doors. The only way in or out of this room were these doors. If they opened them, the would bathe the room in oxygen and cause an explosion. “Rene, we need to get out of here now, the pressure is building in that room and it will explode. The steeple won’t hold much longer either and when it comes down, the whole church will too. We, at least have a chance to get out.” _

_ “No, I can’t leave them! Adele!” Rene cried. His voice cracked the strain of crying so hard making him sound hoarse. He was struggling in Marsac’s arms again, trying to get back to the door where his family was. He couldn’t understand why Marsac was making him leave his family, his Adele and their baby, alone to die. When he’d recited his vows earlier today, he never once thought that ‘until death do us part’ meant that very night. He wasn’t ready to leave them, there was so much still left to do... the thought of them dying without him around left him sick to his stomach.  _

_ Rene felt himself being pulled into his friend’s arms, holding him in a tight hug.  _

_ “We have to go,” Marsac said. He pulled out of the hug, holding Rene at arms length. _

_ The two stared at each other before Rene’s shoulders slumped in acceptance. Marsac nodded and wrapped his arm around Rene's back, lifting him up and supporting his weight as they stumbled back up the stairs. _

_ They were breathing heavy by the time they reached the pews that lined the nave. Marsac hauled Rene alongside him, both struggling to breathe as they went for the back doors they had left open when they came in earlier.  _

_ “Why…” Rene sobbed. “They are all dead… everyone…I… I don’t want to leave them alone, please don’t make me leave them.” _

_ There was a loud groan from the ceiling and sparks of fire exploded from one of the beams as it shifted and Marsac knew they were running out of time. Rene stumbled beside him, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other and whimpering in sadness. _

_ “Rene, just let me get you out of here and then you can crumble and grieve over what happened here. Please.” Marsac pleaded. He wiped away the sweat and soot that gathered on his brow and looked to his friend. _

_ He could feel Rene stiffen in his arms and he hoped that it was the man firming his resolve to get out. It took Marsac a moment to realize that it wasn’t his resolve, but another loud cracking sound. The beam that had groaned before finally let go of its hold and fell onto several pews with a great crash. The beam was the catalyst for the others, as pieces of the ceiling began raining down on them. Each time something hit the ground sparks would explode from the fire, resembling fireworks. _

_ As fate would have it, that was the exact moment a scream rent the air. Rene and Marsac halted in their escape and spun around towards the direction of the scream. _

_ “Someone is still alive! We have to help them!” Rene cried. He struggled to pull himself out of Marsac’s firm grip. _

_ “No, we have to get out, everything in here is a lost cause. Neither of us needs to die here today!” _

_ “Marsac I am not leaving anyone alive behind if I can help it. Let me go.” _

_ Marsac grasped Rene tighter, unwilling to let his best friend go. And yet at the same time, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop him. “I am not going with you…” He whispered. He knew that this would be the last time he would see his friend, and it seemed Rene understood that too. They embraced, years of history surrounding them in that hug. _

_ The last he saw of Aramis was the hazy silhouette racing through the smoke towards the front of the church. With a groan, the ceiling cracked and split the fire spitting its anger at those who still remained on the church walls. Marsac turned and ran towards the back doors… towards life and loneliness. _

_ He never saw the church collapse on itself in an explosion of sparks and fire. Everything was silent after that, except for the roaring of the convertible’s engine and the squealing of tires as he raced out of the parking lot. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically the Catholic Church won't allow marriages during the season of Lent, which is the days between Shrove Tuesday (Mardi Gras) and Easter Sunday. It is meant to be a time of reflection and mourning. But there's been inaccuracies all across the board here, so why not this too!


	11. March 10, 2016 - Interrogation Rooms - Athos, Porthos, and Marsac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank Knights-and-Musketeers for the wonderful memory idea at the end.

**March 10, 2016 - Interrogation Rooms - Athos, Porthos, and Marsac**

Porthos growled in anger and lunged across the table in the interrogation room, grabbing Marsac’s shirt in his fists. “Are you telling us that you left him alone in that church to die and ran like a bloody coward? You didn’t even go back to see if he survived!”

Listening to Marsac’s version of the 2009 Savoy Massacre was devastating to every one of Aramis’ friends. Athos and Porthos were in the room speaking with Marsac, while Treville and d’Artagnan were in the observation room next door, watching through the glass windows. They didn’t want to overwhelm the man who claimed to be Rene’s oldest friend, so they decided that only the two detectives would go in to speak to the man. 

Marsac was shaking while Porthos held his shirt and he couldn’t figure out if it was in fear and nervousness of him or of the situation. Marsac was pale, gaunt and wearing tattered clothing that looked several sizes too big for his frame. His hair was greasy, long and was hanging in his face like it hadn’t been brushed or washed in a really long time. 

As Marsac’s story had progressed, the whole situation became more and more unbelievable. Basement doors chained shut, backdrafts, screams of someone alive and an entire wedding party, the guests, and the bride all dead… Then the groom and his best friend vanish, neither knowing each other was alive. No wonder Aramis was a mess at this time of year Porthos thought. 

The detective was having a hard time stomaching the thought of his boyfriend crying out for his family and then being forced to leave them behind. Porthos was also struggling to not blame this Marsac person for forcing Aramis away from his family, but the fact of the matter was that Marsac  _ had _ abandoned him. What if they stayed in the church instead of going to the lake? What if they could have opened the doors? But no, if there really was a backdraft, then both of them would have been killed and if they’d stayed in the church they would also likely be dead. He wasn’t sure how either of the men had the strength to pick themselves up and overcome their sorrow long enough to get out of the church. The selfish side of Porthos was glad they got out alive because then he never would have met Aramis, and that thought made him iller. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard Athos clear his throat, intending to have him back off from his death grip on Marsac’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He shook the man and growled again, glaring at him in anger. Aramis’ supposed best friend had abandoned him like a coward and Porthos wasn’t offering absolution. At the back of his mind, though, there was a tiny little bit of guilt that was growing. Because what if in the end, Aramis wasn’t ready to offer absolution to Porthos for the horrible way he’d treated him over the years. 

“Porthos, enough,” Athos said. His partner’s hand rested on his shoulder in warning, his time in here would soon come to an end if he didn’t calm down. Porthos knew if that happened he wouldn’t be allowed back in, and Treville may not even allow him into the observation room where he and d’Artagnan were. With one last growl, he shoved Marsac back into his chair and stalked to the back wall, glaring at Athos.

“You have to understand,” Marsac began. “The reception room was primed to blow, the ceiling was going to cave in, had  _ started _ to cave in. Rene ran off to save someone and the only thing I could do was get out.”

Porthos stalked forward again and slammed his fist on the table, startling Marsac and Athos. “No, you had the option to go with him!” He knew he was losing his cool again, but found himself powerless to stop it. He just wanted Aramis back safe in his arms. He wanted this whole damn nightmare to be over and most of all he wanted to stop feeling so bloody guilty for not being sympathetic to his boyfriend’s plight. 

“Porthos!” Athos shouted.

He had no idea when his life had become a comedic tragedy. A long time boyfriend, who had a sordid enough past that it forced him to create a new identity. His entire relationship was a person who didn’t actually exist and while logically he knew they were the same person he really felt like he’d just lost Aramis to this Rene person. How much of his boyfriend was his boyfriend? Did Aramis have the same likes and dislikes as Rene? He thought he knew what made Aramis tick, what made him happy, and what made him sad, but what if Rene was different? Porthos deflated, it all boiled down to the fact that he was jealous that Marsac knew a part of his boyfriend that he didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry,” Porthos said. He backed off from the table and walked back to the wall, leaning against it, waiting for Marsac to continue speaking. “I’m having a hard time with all of this.”

Athos glared at Porthos again, “One more outburst and you’re out of this room, understood?”

He didn’t wait for Porthos’ answer and spun back around towards Marsac and gestured for the man to continue speaking. Until now, Athos had barely spoken. He wanted to allow Porthos his questions of Marsac, but it was becoming very clear that his partner was too emotional to start asking the real questions they needed answering. He quickly decided it was time to take over and see how much Marsac could aid them in finding Aramis.

“I--I saw on the midnight news that Rene was missing,” Marsac began, stuttering in nervousness. “I thought he was dead all these years, there was no sign of him still being alive, and I moved on. Believe me, I did look for Rene, not hard mind you, but I looked. There was nothing, not even a glimpse of him having survived the fire that night. The ceiling literally collapsed as I ran out of the church and I assumed that he didn’t make it out. When his picture appeared on the midnight news and everyone was calling him Aramis de Vannes, I drove through the night from Savoy to here to speak with you guys. I want to find him, there are so many things that have been left unsaid between us.”

Porthos pushed off from the wall and began pacing back and forth, visibly uncomfortable. “He doesn’t even know you survived. He’s never said anything about any of this to us, he only said he was the first responder.”

“I don’t know why he kept all of that a secret. Rene was never one to hide, even with all the crap he went through when Victor and Isabelle were terrorizing him. Why did he this time?” Marsac asked.

“That’s what we are trying to determine and we are hoping you’ll have some insight into a few things that make no sense to us. Do you feel comfortable enough to continue?” Athos asked.

Marsac shuffled slightly in his chair and glanced at the other detective nervously. It was obvious to Athos that Aramis’s friend was unsure of Porthos’ volatile mood. 

“I can have Porthos removed if it makes this easier for you?” Athos asked, purposefully not looking at Porthos. He knew his partner would be glaring at him.

“No… No, he can stay if he stays over there.”

“Fair enough, let’s start then. The official investigative report shows that there were no survivors reported alive, but we know now that there was at least two, you and Aramis. We also need to assume based on what you said about Rene hearing a scream, that there is a possibility that someone else survived,” Athos began. He was looking down at the notebook in his hands, where he’d jotted down all the key points of this investigation. The top item on his list, beyond finding Aramis’ whereabouts was Ninon de Larroque. Call it curiosity if you wanted, but Athos desperately wanted to know what was in that file, hoping that it would shed some light on what happened that night. He suspected the file held the death certificates and the missing autopsy reports. He knew there was a reason that Aramis wanted the truth hidden and if that truth helped them find their friend alive, then Athos wanted that information. 

Athos went on to explain a bit more of what they discovered in their investigation, leaving out some details that were delicate or could be seen as a violation of privacy. The entire time Marsac listened with rapt attention, devouring any detail he could, asking Athos questions along the way. Athos had been hoping that the details would trigger some memory for Marsac, some over looked piece of evidence they’d missed, but if he had remembered anything he hadn’t shown any indication.

“Tell me about Isabelle and Victor.” Athos finally asked, trying to move the conversation in a different direction. He had his pen poised over a pad of paper, prepared to get descriptions and proper names so they could do a search for them in the system. “Also do we have a reason to suspect either of them is involved in Aramis’ abduction?”

“Isabelle and Victor were exes of Rene and Adele. I don’t know a whole lot about Victor, other than he was an abuser who beat up on Adele their entire relationship. Isabelle was Rene’s high school sweetheart, she was as crazy as they come. Possessive and jealous, but incredibly smart if she could focus on the task at hand. When Rene and Adele started dating, Victor and Isabelle teamed up and started terrorizing their exes. It ended one night when Victor tried to abduct Adele, Rene managed to intervene, but it landed him in the hospital for weeks. At least we were able to get Victor arrested for it. Victor and Isabelle married in secret, sometime during the time he was in jail, but before the trial, so that she couldn’t testify against him. Isabelle vanished right after Victor was sentenced. There is always the possibility that Victor is involved here, but he’s supposed to be in jail for a ten-year sentence. Wouldn’t we have heard something if he was out?”

“Not if everyone from that case was dead. They wouldn’t have anyone to notify. Porthos, go see if d’Artagnan can look into the police database for Victor…”

“Amadeus.”

“Victor Amadeus, and see what he has been up to since 2009.”

Porthos nodded and left the room, closing the door shut behind him quietly.

Athos cleared his throat and continued, “tell me about Ninon de Larroque.”

Marsac nodded, “I don’t know any Ninon de Larroque, but I did know a Ninon Bessette. She was Adele’s older sister. She was their lawyer in the case against Victor, helped them put him behind bars. Why?”

Athos’ eyes widened, what were the odds that Ninon de Larroque was Adele Bessette’s sister? He glanced quickly at the glass window, hoping that Treville or d’Artagnan could catch his silent request to switch up their search for Ninon to both the old name and new one. 

“She helped Aramis hide everything, her name is in several of the files, including an important, court sealed file that may contain information pertinent to this investigation. It was all information filed after the fire. We have not been able to find her, do you know where she could be?” Athos said.

It was silent for a moment as Athos watched Marsac’s face go from confusion to anger and then finally settled on incredulous. He stood up and began pacing back and forth, wringing his hands in agitation. “Are you kidding me?” He finally said. 

“I assure you I am not?”

“Ninon was the maid of honour at the wedding, she was there that night. How did she… Oh my God!” Marsac said. He stopped pacing and looked at Athos wildly. “Ninon was the person screaming at the church! She had to be, there is no other explanation for her being alive.”

Athos sat back in the chair and took a deep breath imagining the scenario in his mind. Aramis heard the scream and ran to the front of the church where Ninon was. He pulled her out just as the church collapses, saving them both. But what would have prevented Aramis from searching for Marsac? What would have distracted him from… oh… Adele. Aramis would have run out the front door and straight into Adele’s dead body on the steps of the church. That would have been a horrifying sight, Athos thought. Thinking you lost your loved one in a fire only to experience the loss a second time when she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. 

Athos found himself thinking of how he would react if he walked out and saw someone he loved murdered in front of him. Would Aramis have dropped to his knees and pressed his fingers into her rapidly cooling skin checking for a heartbeat? Did he step into the pool of blood beneath her body? Did he try and stop the blood flow from her neck knowing it was a fruitless endeavour? Would he have sobbed into her hair, begging for her to live? And… oh… the baby. 

That loss alone would have done him in, it nearly did 18 years ago when he gave up his own child. A child who he was able to meet and hold in his arms, a child that was still alive. Aramis didn’t have any of that. Athos heart plummeted as he realized that the night, years ago, when he told Aramis about his son, the man already knew what it was like to give up a child. For Aramis, the choice wasn’t voluntary like it was for Athos, but it still hurt like someone ripped his heart out of his chest. To remember Aramis describing what his daughter could have looked like made the whole night that much more memorable. It made Athos wonder just how many more tidbits of information Aramis revealed to his friends over the years, and none of them ever realized he was doing that.

 

**_Summer 2014 - Athos’ place - Athos and Aramis_ **

 

_ “He’s 16 today.” Athos slurred. He held up the beer he was drinking as a toast to his son’s birthday. A son he’d never told anyone about until now, not even his own partner knew. He was drunk, far beyond the levels considered safe, but nowhere near needing a hospital. He’d always been someone who could hold his alcohol well, unlike Aramis, who was sitting beside him on the couch equally as drunk and close to passing out. The man was lightweight and it didn’t take much for him to become inebriated. _

_ His friend took a drink of his own beer and rolled his head towards Athos, his sluggish mind only now catching up to what Athos said. _

_ “Who’s 16?” _

_ “My son." _

_ "What?" Aramis sat up a little farther on the couch, his attention on Athos now instead of the TV. _

_ "When I was 18 I met this transfer student named Anne. She was only around for a year before her parents were moving to the US, so the two of us had this whole summer love thing. Only Anne and I were not suited for each other at all, we were literal oil and vinegar.” _

_ “Lemme guess, couldn’t keep your hands off each other.” Aramis waggled his eyebrows. _

_ Athos sighed, “You want to hear this story or shall I stop?” _

_ “No, no I’m enthralled. Continue.” _

_ “Anyways,” Athos continued, not looking directly at Aramis, but watching his reactions from the corner of his eye. “We spent the entire summer fighting and making up.” _

_ “Making up? Or ‘making up’” Aramis leered. _

_ Athos paused, glaring at the idiot beside him until Aramis bowed his head and whispered he wouldn’t interrupt again. _

_ “She got pregnant and we had a baby boy nine months later. We gave the baby up for a closed adoption. It wasn’t my choice for it to be closed, but Anne wanted nothing to do with the baby." Athos paused looking at Aramis who was frowning. "I make her sound cruel, but she wasn’t really. Her Dad was in the military and her Mother a devout Catholic. They were horrified when she became pregnant, insisting she was to give the baby away, even if my family wanted to keep him. The night after she had him, Anne vanished from my life and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I assume she lives in the United States, but I’ve never looked for her.” _

_ “I’m sorry you went through that,” Aramis said, his voice wobbly like he was going to cry. _

_ Athos looked at Aramis as he spoke, concerned about why his friend was emotional. “Are you okay?” _

_ Aramis took a moment to compose himself before nodding and asking. “Did you ever look for him? Even if it was a closed adoption, there could have been something you could do?” _

_ “Not initially,” Athos sighed. “I was 18 and knew there wasn’t anything I could do to support that baby. After Anne left, they allowed me to name the boy and to hold him. I never met the adoptive parents, but they gave me a hand and footprints of Raoul and a wonderful, unsigned letter of their heartfelt thanks. I’ve searched for him over the years, but not very hard. He’ll be 18 in a couple of years and his records will be opened for me to find him. I figure I have waited this long what’s two more years, you know?” _

_ “Two years could mean everything, Athos. You should look again, I could check hospital records!” _

_ Aramis was getting excited now, practically vibrating beside Athos. Just knowing that his friend would risk his job to track down his son was good enough for him. It made Athos feel like there was no judgment from Aramis. _

_ “No Aramis. Leave it be, please. No one else knows, you can’t say anything.” Athos said. _

_ Aramis visibly deflated and settled back down beside Athos, pouting. “I suppose your secret is safe with me. What do you think he looks like?” _

_ “Raoul? I don’t know who he’d resemble, we both have brown hair and fair complexions. Anne has green eyes and mine are blue, so it's a given he will have some of those features. Part of me hopes he looks like her, and the selfish side of me hopes there is nothing in him to remind me of her.” _

_ “You still love her don’t you?” Aramis asked softly. _

_ Athos frowned, he’d never had anyone ask him that before. “Unequivocally… We weren't good for each other and I'll bet you that hasn't changed. I’ll pretend she is happy with someone more deserving than me and remain content in those thoughts. What about you, do you ever want children? What do you think yours would look like?” _

_ It was silent for so long that Athos figured he wasn’t going to get an answer from Aramis when his friend spoke. “I did want children once. I would have wanted a girl with red hair and brown eyes.” _

_ “Red hair and brown eyes is an odd combination?” Athos asked. _

_ “Yes, true, but it would be a beautiful one.” _

_ "Fair enough," Athos smiled, glad to see Aramis' mood lighten a bit when he was talking about his imaginary child. _

_ "Happy birthday to Raoul," Aramis said drinking the last of his beer in one swallow. _

_ "Indeed." Athos agreed. _


	12. March 10, 2016 - Observation Room - Treville, D’Artagnan, and Porthos

**March 10, 2016 - Observation Room - Treville, D’Artagnan, and Porthos**

 

In the observation room, d’Artagnan was typing information into the police database and other search engines. The search for Ninon de Larroque had only brought up various information about law firms she had worked for, none of it recent. It seemed as though she wasn’t currently practicing anywhere nearby. If she was, it wasn’t under the de Larroque name. Frustrated at another dead end, d’Artagnan opened the search to all over the world for Ninon. 

When Porthos stalked in, requesting him to search for Victor Amadeus, d’Artagnan already was opening a new window to search. At least because Victor was convicted of a crime, he would have a police record. Finding out some information on the man would be the easier of his searches.

While they waited for information Porthos and Treville watched the interview between Athos and Marsac. Each of the men was rigid with tension while watching the two in the other room with rapt attention. They were listening for any clues that might help them find Aramis.  

The story that Marsac told them about the night of the Savoy massacre, was both fascinating and horrifying. D'Artagnan couldn’t even begin to imagine what his best friend had gone through. The day at school, when Aramis ran out in the professor’s class was only now making complete sense. He'd suspected all those years ago that there was some traumatic event causing his friend's terror. He never imagined it would be this overwhelming. Aramis lost his entire family in what looked like a revenge plot against him. Revenge for a such a simple thing as love.

D'Artagnan realized as Marsac told his story, that he was wrong to judge Porthos as harshly as he did before. What he was going through, knowing the love of his life was a different person seven years ago, had to be sobering. Still, d'Artagnan would forgive Aramis anything if he could just have the man back alive and safe. There was no judgment to be had from him and there wouldn't ever be and he hoped he would have the chance to show his friend that. There was going to be enough judgment from others when they did find him that Aramis would need an ally. D'Artagnan would be that ally no matter what other truths happened to be revealed.

It was easy enough to see that Marsac was telling the truth, though. D’Artagnan was no profiler, but he was a counsellor and quite familiar with body language. Even if the man was nervous and quite frail, he was honest with his answers and sat in an open, welcoming position. His arms were not crossed, his body angled towards Athos and he was answering all Athos' questions, even offering up thoughts of his own. For the first time, d’Artagnan felt a bit of hope creeping into his chest that they would find Aramis soon. He couldn't say why he felt this way, but just the sheer amount of people concerned for Aramis' well-being was a start.

While d’Artagnan was listening, Marsac mentioned that Ninon was the sister to Adele, so he opened another window to begin the search for Ninon Bessette. He was beginning to suspect that Ninon was more than just a lawyer. In all the years that Aramis had been his friend, d'Artagnan never saw the man exhibit anything greater than mediocre computer skills. So either his friend was lying about it all, or this Ninon person had a hand in helping him hide his past. It meant that she was a person of vital interest in this case as she was the only one who knew everything about the creation of Aramis de Vannes.

D'Artagnan was fascinated about the human psyche, it was why he went to school to become a counsellor. Sure he could have gone further and become a psychiatrist, but he wanted to help people on a more base level. The hospital gave him that, a place to help people on a daily basis. To make a difference immediately, rather than through years of sessions. 

D'Artagnan never expected to need those skills to profile one of his friends. How much of Rene had his friend melded into Aramis? Or, what parts of Aramis were completely fabricated and why did he choose those traits? He knew after seven years, that his friend wasn't playing a role anymore. That who Aramis was now, all the things he’d created for his persona, were a part of him. Aramis could no longer go back to being Rene because that person no longer existed.

The computer beeped half a second later pulling d’Artagnan from his thoughts. One of the searches had finished its scan. “Hey guys, I’ve got Victor’s police report,” D’Artagnan said.

He waited until the other two crowded around his computer screen before opening the file and reading the contents. “Victor Amadeus arrested in 2008, convicted of assault and battery on Rene. Attempted abduction of Adele Bessette and various other lesser crimes the police tacked on to ensure a longer sentence. He was given 10 years, but got out in December 2008 on a technicality.”

“What kind of technicality could there be?” Porthos exclaimed.

D’Artagnan shrugged and opened the notes on the file. Pictures of Rene’s injuries appeared on screen causing all three men to cringe. The bruising on their friend's body was extensive, no part of him seemed untouched. He glanced at the long list of injuries and closed the pictures down moments later. The list was nauseatingly long and he wasn't sure he could stomach the hurts his friend was put through.

Porthos gasped when he saw the damage. “Bloody hell…”

“He's lucky he survived that,” Treville said.

D’Artagnan skimmed through the rest of the notes on file until he found what he was looking for. “It seems some of the evidence was handled wrong and Victor was released from jail only months after he went in. He must have had a pretty sleazy lawyer willing to listen to try and get a release for him.”

"Who was his lawyer?" Treville asked.

D'Artagnan skimmed the file looking for the name. "Marc Rochefort. I'm not even going to look him up because if he was someone willing to get Victor out on technicalities, he isn't someone worth knowing."

“So,” Porthos began. “We could go with the assumption that Victor was Aramis' abductor. He was seeking revenge on him for being with Adele, for putting him in jail and then surviving his piece de resistance, The Savoy Massacre. If all this is true, then this man is not someone to be underestimated. Aramis made that mistake seven years ago, I don't intend to make the same mistake.”

It occurred to d'Artagnan that they were all lucky to have Porthos on their side. There was no doubt in his mind that if Victor and Porthos met up, that Porthos wouldn't be the loser in their battle.

"I'm sorry I was so angry with you before Porthos," D'Artagnan said a bit sheepish.

Porthos only grunted and nodded his head towards d'Artagnan. "I understand, d'Art. I might be livid with Aramis right now, but I want to find him and knock some sense into him more than any of you combined. I'm not abandoning him for the second time, so let’s work towards finding him."

D'Artagnan nodded, touched by Porthos' words and continued. “I didn’t find anything on Isabelle, it doesn’t look like she has any police records. I am not familiar with procedures, do you guys rule her out because there is no evidence of her involvement?”

Treville shook his head, “No I am not prepared to rule out anything or anyone. Keep looking for this Isabelle person and for Ninon--” An email notification on his phone interrupted him and Treville thumbed his cell phone on and opened the file. There was a message from CSI with the results from the surveillance camera picture. He opened the file and his eyes widened at what he saw, they had their first suspect in this case.

“Captain?” Porthos asked. “What is it?”

“The reflection of the person in the emergency room doors has been identified. D’Artagnan could you hand me the picture and the results I am sending to the printer? Porthos, you need to get this into Athos and Marsac immediately."

Porthos nodded and took the pages from d’Artagnan before leaving for the interrogation room.

“This whole thing gets more convoluted as we go,” Treville commented. He positioned himself in front of the mirror and refocused on the interrogation room and its occupants.

There was still something bothering d’Artagnan though, and he voiced his opinion to Treville “Why now Uncle? Why did this Marsac person not look for Aramis years ago, just for peace of mind? Why did he wait until this moment to find him? What is his motivation here? Even if I was in their situation, I would have tried to find out.”

Treville shrugged, “No one can say for certain when presented with a situation what their response will be. Whether it's fight or flight, and it's obvious that Marsac's was flight. We can't judge him for that, he was doing what he thought best. As for why he didn't look into Aramis all these years? I don't know. Again, he probably convinced himself Rene was dead so it made sense he wouldn't look for him. He doesn't look well, though, and he's still hiding something, so let’s see if we can’t figure that out?”

 

**March 10, 2016 - Interrogation Room - Athos, Porthos, and Marsac**

 

Porthos had been gone for longer than Athos expected and he was just about to get up to seek his partner out when the man in question barged back into the room. Porthos slammed the pages of paper he was carrying down onto the table in front of Athos.

“Our judicial system leaves something to be desired,” Porthos stated. He stood beside the table, arms crossed, anger radiating from every pore.

Athos glared at Porthos before picking up the sheets of paper. It was the criminal record for Victor Amadeus as well as the photo from the surveillance camera. Athos continued to read the report in silence and then slid it over to Marsac, who grew agitated as he read the report himself.

“How did I never know?” Marsac asked incredulously.  

The picture matched the police file on record. Victor Amadeus was likely the person who took Aramis from the hospital's emergency room. If it hadn't been for captain Treville's accidental pause on the video they wouldn't even have gotten this far.

Everyone in the room was silent for a long time before Athos spoke up. “So it’s true then…” He said as he looked at the photos laid out before him on the table. “ Victor is Aramis’ abductor and is repeating the murders and fires from 2009.”

“Aramis was the intended target in 2009 and we have every reason to believe the target now. If we follow the pattern from the fires and murders from seven years ago to the ones now, Aramis has until March 25. Good Friday will be the night he's killed, closing the book on Victor's revenge.” Porthos stated. He’d hoped that it wasn’t true, but the identity of the man in the reflection and all the evidence stacked together wasn’t something you could ignore. “We need to find and take Victor down once and for all. Aramis doesn’t ever need to experience torture at this man’s hands ever again.”

"If Victor's involved, then Isabelle will be as well and you guys would be making a huge mistake in overlooking her. Even if they're married, she never stopped loving Rene."

Athos nodded and turned to Marsac, standing up and taking his hand to shake it. “We thank you for your help here today. We will contact you if we need any more information and make sure that when we find Aramis, he knows what you did for him.”

Porthos frowned when Marsac turned to him and held out his hand to shake. Porthos gripped it, looking him directly in the eye. “I can’t help but wonder why you helped us today. You ran, you left him for dead, assumed he was dead all these years. Then you see his face on the news and now you need to find him. Why the desperation?”

Marsac froze, pulling his hand back from Porthos. He looked down to the ground and cleared his throat nervously before running his hand through his long stringy hair. He sighed. “I’ve made many mistakes in my life and leaving Rene behind was the worst one. I'll regret not knowing he was alive for the rest of my life, which I am sure you’ll be glad to know isn’t going to be much longer. Simply put, I am dying. It's cancer and I have months left, if even that… so I want to do everything I can do to help find him. I want to see him once more to beg for his forgiveness before I die.”

  
  


**March 10, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

 

“I don’t understand,” Lemay said for the sixth or seventh time that evening. “Why after all these years, would this be the time that Isabelle and Victor choose to kill me. I’ve been around almost as long as they have been doing this.”

“You are a despicable man,” Aramis growled in response. His leg was throbbing again, the pain undulating, rising and falling, stabbing and pinching. Whatever drug the doctor gave him earlier was wearing off and he couldn’t wait for the next dose to dull the edge. Also, Aramis figured as soon as he was high as a kite he wouldn’t have to feel anymore. He could float and pretend all this wasn’t happening. The most important thing, though, was he could tune the good doctor out because Lemay was anything  _ but  _ a good doctor.

The man had been chattering for what felt like hours now. Aramis had sympathized with him for about five minutes until the man began rambling on about all the things he’d done for Victor and Isabelle. _How after all his good work dying was unfair._ _He was an upstanding doctor, well respected in the community, on the verge of expanding his practice_ …

“I wouldn’t say that I was despicable, Rene,” Lemay responded. “I would call myself being principled.”

Aramis was somewhat surprised when Lemay used his real name; the name that he'd denied all these years. It was hard enough hearing Isabelle say it. Even if he wanted the man to shut the hell up, he wanted to know why Lemay was helping Isabelle and Victor far more. “I don’t think helping Isabelle and Victor kill other people for some convoluted revenge plot makes you worthy of a title such as high-principled.”

“I am healing people, how is that not honourable?”

Aramis snorted, this man was an idiot. “So you heal them so they can die later? Where is there honour in that?”

Lemay shifted where he sat, it was clear that he was uncomfortable with Aramis’ line of questioning. “I didn’t know at first that they were going to die. I only wanted to help them.”

Aramis shouted. “What did you think was going to happen to them? They were captives, doomed to die! How stupid can one person be?”

“How dare you call me stupid! I graduated top of my class, the best physician in years!” Lemay shouted back.

“You took an oath when you became a doctor, and yet you guided these innocent people to their deaths. You’re playing at God! What makes you think you are better than anyone else just because you have the ability to heal people? NO!” Aramis shouted when Lemay tried to interrupt. “No, you don’t get to defend yourself, because you didn’t let those women defend themselves. You healed them and then you walked away knowing they were going to die. You knew Isabelle and Victor had plans for them and instead of going to the police you allowed those two psychos to continue. So no, Lemay, you are not high-principled, you are abhorrent.”

“I think that’s unfair of you--”

“Now, now gentlemen,” Victor interrupted. He sauntered into the room, grinning from ear to ear. “My good friend, Lemay, I am afraid Rene is quite correct in his assessment of you, you’re not God and you never will be. All those poor women, all those wonderful couples seven years ago looked to you to help them and you just left them to die. Tsk Tsk… One could even say you gave them false hope.”

“Wh--what! No! I would never…” Lemay stuttered.

Aramis couldn’t help himself, he grinned as Victor spoke to Lemay as though the man was a child. At least for the moment, the heat was on someone else than himself, maybe he would walk out of this visit of Victor’s with his wits intact. Well maybe not walk.

“I see you smiling over there Rene, don’t think I’ve forgotten you. Isabelle’s endgame has always been to kill you for choosing someone else other than her. Our plans always molded so well together... But I don’t think she took into account all her old feelings for you rushing back to her. I think this is where Isabelle’s and my partnership ends because you see, I still want you dead and if she won’t allow that, then I can’t allow her to live. You’re going to die on Good Friday like you should have died that day seven years ago. If Isabelle isn’t dead by then, she will die by your side.”

Aramis glared at Victor who ignored him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver key to unlock Dr Lemay’s cuffs. “Stand up and give Rene his next dose of drugs, then follow me, I have need of your services.”

“You’re not going to kill me then?” Lemay asked timidly, a small flicker of hope lighting up on his face.

For a split second, Aramis sympathized with Lemay, because there was zero chance that they would allow the doctor to live much longer. Whatever Victor required of Lemay in this moment would be the last task that he’d do for the couple. If Lemay wasn’t dead by morning, Aramis would be surprised.

Victor smirked. “You’ve become expendable. We have what we want in Rene here, why keep you around now?”

Victor waited by the entrance to the cell, checking his watch as Lemay shuffled over to Aramis. The doctor looked green around the gills as if he’d realized that this was going to be the last few moments of his life.

“My condolences doc,” Aramis commented as the doctor injected a needle full of blessed narcotics into his bicep.

Lemay frowned, tightening his hold on his arm. “I really didn’t mean for…”

Aramis interrupted, not wanting to hear the man’s excuses. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. You may not deserve the title of doctor, but you certainly don’t deserve to have a death sentence passed on you by anyone but God himself.”

Lemay nodded and let go of Aramis’ arm.

“Are you quite done doc?” Victor asked impatiently. The vile man didn’t wait for an answer before he strode forward, grabbing Lemay by the arm and yanking him out of the cell.

Aramis smiled grimly at the irony as Victor locked his cell, because there was no way he was walking anywhere anytime soon. He watched as a protesting Lemay was forcibly dragged from the room until Aramis was alone once again.


	13. March 10th and 11th, 2016 - The Road to Savoy - Athos and Porthos

**March 10th and 11th, 2016 - The Road to Savoy - Athos and Porthos**

 

The rest of the day after Marsac’s visit was uneventful. Athos, Porthos, d'Artagnan and Treville went over their notes and case files comparing things and formulating a theory on what happened after Marsac left the church. Their main concern was what happened to Rene and how he survived. D’Artagnan, convinced that Ninon was the one screaming in the church, redoubled his efforts to locate her. He was also sure that because she was a lawyer it made the most sense that she was the one that helped Rene come up with a new identity. Ninon would have access to the Judge and the resources to make things go away. She was also Adele’s sister and the guys were desperate to speak to her to see if she could expand on their theories of the night.

What Athos didn’t understand, though, was why Aramis went to such great lengths to hide both himself and Ninon. The most obvious answer was that the two lost their entire family in one night to a couple of serial killers. But Aramis never gave them any sign that he knew who the killers were. If Aramis knew who the killers were, there was no way Victor could've gotten to him unawares. No, Athos was sure something else just as significant as the fire had happened that night. What that was though, he had no clue.

It was getting quite late when Treville called a halt to their investigations.

“Go home, go to bed.” He said to Athos and Porthos. “I want an update the second you two get to Savoy. D’Artagnan… go home, get some rest.”

Just as Treville suggested they go home, D’Artagnan received a call from the hospital.  Preparation for all departments, except emergency, was happening over the weekend and they were looking for all available employees for help. D'Artagnan reluctantly left, but he made sure to have the detective's promise to keep him updated on their investigation. He also promised he would continue searching for Ninon and Isabelle and would contact them as soon as he found something.

Athos and Porthos each went to their respective homes for the evening so they could get some rest before travelling to Savoy. It had been a long two days since Aramis went missing and they all could use a moment of time to reflect. Everything they'd learned about their friend in the last couple of days was eye opening. You think you knew a person and then someone pulls a rug from beneath your feet. 

Athos was expecting Porthos to show up at his house sooner rather than later, prepared to drive through the night. He didn't blame him either, who could sleep in a house where everything reminded you of your loved one? 

Athos was ready to go around midnight when Porthos opened the door to his small home. He'd brought along his overnight bag and two large cups of coffee to keep them awake for the long trip. They left shortly thereafter in Athos’ SUV.

“How much of Aramis do you think is real?” Porthos asked during the drive. It was the first thing he’d asked in a while, both preferring to contemplate their current situation in silence.

“What do you mean?” Athos asked. "Everything about him is real, isn't it?"

Porthos sighed as though having this conversation was insufferable. Athos knew he was questioning everything Aramis had done over the five years they’d been together. His friend had calmed down a lot since earlier when he and d’Artagnan had been about to rip each other apart. Athos suspected that the root of Porthos’ problems lay in Rene’s appearance in their lives. 

"Since we found out Aramis lived another life, I've realized that this one was completely fabricated."

“I know,” Athos said. “But I don’t care how much of Aramis is real because as his friend I feel like I know him. Despite the lies he’s told over the years, can you honestly tell me you don’t know him? The way he smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s genuinely happy? How he gets so angry over the smallest of things because he's passionate about his beliefs? Porthos, his character traits, the things that make Aramis who he is? Those are not things he could change. They are inherent, part of his dna. His unerring faith in a divine being, his desire to help people, his  _ many _ character flaws--”

“Alright, alright, I get it. D’Artagnan said the same thing to me in my office the other night.”

“D’Artagnan is a smart man,” Athos replied.

“Doesn’t still mean I don’t want to smack Aramis upside the head for lying like this.”

Athos smiled. “You’ll forgive him the second you lay eyes on him and you know it.”

“I’ll smack him first, then I’ll forgive him,” Porthos responded with a chuckle.

\---

Sometime during the night Athos received an email from d’Artagnan with several attachments. There was a long-winded explanation of what he’d found on Isabelle.

Athos handed his phone to Porthos so he wasn't driving distracted. “I don’t even want to know how d’Artagnan got this information, and if he did what I think he did, I hope he doesn’t lose his job over this.” 

“It looks like Isabelle was crazy from birth,” Porthos said as he read the information in the email.  “D’Artagnan accessed her medical files and there is a list of visits to psychiatrists and hospitals. They stop around the age of thirteen. Her parents must have found the proper combination of medication or gave up because there isn’t any medical history after that.”

“None whatsoever?”

“Well there are regular checkups and prescriptions, but nothing like when she was growing up.”

“What else does d’Artagnan say?” Athos asked.

“Isabelle went to Savoy High school and met Rene there. They dated for the last two years of high school and first two years of University.” Porthos whistled at that bit of information. “Wow, he dated her for a long time.”

“Any picture files so we know what she looks like? Anything else important, that could link her to Victor and our case? The fact that they're married and Marsac’s feeling as though she's involved won't stand in court. Provided we get that far.”

Porthos nodded and opened the other attachments before describing them to Athos. “There is a yearbook photo from her graduation. Isabelle is a shorter, slight woman with long blond hair and blueish eyes. She's quoted in the yearbook as saying that her favourite colour is blue, she likes bluebells and she is going to marry Rene d’Herblay. The second picture is of both Rene and Isabelle dressed for prom, and awww he’s adorable! Look Athos, baby Aramis!”

Athos frowned at the picture Porthos was waving in his face. She was wearing a corsage of bluebells on her wrist, and Rene had a bundle on his lapel.

“She’s a tiny little thing isn’t she?” Athos commented. "Look how tightly she has her hand wrapped around his arm."

“There are a few other random pictures and a wedding announcement for Victor and Isabelle. There isn’t much else that d'Artagnan can get at right now, he says he's moving back to his search for Ninon. He's leaving it up to us to discover more about Isabelle while we are here. I guess we ask around then yeah?"

“I guess,” Athos started. “So you think she's involved?”

“It’s close enough for me,” Porthos growled in response.

Athos ran one hand through his hair. "Alright, so it's official then? we are looking for two people. Victor and Isabelle."

"Yeah."

\---

“You ok partner?” Athos asked a little bit later.

“Yeah, I guess. I was just thinking about what Aramis was like when he was younger. What were the things that interested him, did he have any talents or hobbies, what were his parents like. Were they close to each other… I want to find him Athos, I want to be able to ask him all these things. If he decides to give me another chance that is.”

“Why wouldn’t he give you another chance? Do you think that what you guys said the other morning holds any importance now? He’s probably somewhere thinking the same thing of you, hoping you will accept him back.”

Porthos turned to him with a faint smile and Athos knew his friend wasn’t convinced at all. He supposed the larger man wouldn’t be satisfied until the words came from Aramis mouth. Athos admired how well Porthos was keeping it together because he felt like was coming apart at the seams. He was trying so hard not to let his panic show, putting on a brave face for his friends. But each passing hour that Aramis was missing was chipping away at the facade. He didn’t know what he thought of everything they were discovering about their friend. It was completely like one of those TV shows that Aramis  _ loved.  _ Secret lives, jilted lovers, fake deaths, lies… Athos’ pvr was overflowing with endless episodes of the soap operas.

"You know he still records his tv shows at my house?" Athos mentioned.

Porthos snorted. "Better your PVR than mine. That crap he watches will rot his brain."

“What do you think his parents were like Porthos?” At that question, Athos was pleased to see his friend smile and relax into the passenger seat of the vehicle. If this was the way to settle Porthos and make him think less of the horrors happening to his boyfriend, then Athos was happy enough to play this game. And truth be told, it was easing his heart as well.

“Hmmm… Well, both you and d’Artagnan claim that who Aramis is wouldn’t change. And if he is anything to judge his parents by, I think they were kind and full of love.”

“Yeah,” Athos smiled. “Also he wouldn’t just become a tactile person overnight so I bet they were a family who hugged a lot.”

“He gives the absolute best hugs.” Porthos paused a moment, suspiciously rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, Athos, this helps.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what else? What musical instrument would he play in high school?”

Porthos laughed. “The drums without a doubt.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The man has a temper that rivals Captain Treville on a good day, he’d be a perfect fit for the drums. Smashing things, he’d like that.”

“I swear I just heard every music teacher in France cringe.”

“I didn’t say he’d be any good at playing the drums, just that he’d like smashing them,” Porthos said.

For the rest of the drive, the two continued to create a history for Aramis that justified his current persona. He hoped that it'd ease Porthos’ worries, helping him to understand that Aramis was still the same person he’d known 48 hours ago.

 

**March 11, 2016 - Savoy - Athos and Porthos**

 

The next morning found the two detectives settling into a hotel room in the centre of Savoy. They visited a couple of the crime scenes from 2009, realizing quickly that they were just dead ends. Whatever evidence why those locations were chosen seven years ago was gone. The only way they would get answers on why those specific people were killed was if Victor and Isabelle told them. Athos doubted even Aramis would know why the couples were killed, if for no other reason than it being a foreshadowing of what was to come.  

They left Savoy’s church until last in the hopes that they could gain some information. Also, Athos was secretly hoping that Aramis was there. Though he didn't disclose any of his theories to Porthos because he didn’t want to get the man’s hopes up. It was plausible that Victor and Isabelle would enact their revenge at the same place they failed the first time. The only problem with his theory was that this wasn’t the old church, that one burned down. This church was a new building, though it was built as a replica of the old one.

The church was a large structure, built to house all Savoy’s Catholic community. It was unimpressive and plain with its beige exterior and sturdy grey roof. There was a forest of trees behind the building and a large paved parking lot in the front where the parishioners could park. Behind the wall of trees was, Athos assumed, where the lake and the infamous bench that Marsac told them about, resided.

Porthos and Athos walked down the well-worn path in the trees towards the lake. They both wanted to see the bench where Marsac and Aramis last toasted to Rene’s wedding day. When they broke through the trees they saw a priest seated on the bench staring out into the depths of the lake.

They wandered out to meet the priest, who introduced himself as Father Thomas. Athos was surprised to hear that the man was the officiator of Rene’s and Adele’s wedding and had been stationed at this church for many years. Father Thomas spoke about the town of Savoy and  how long the church held its presence here. He also told them about the mysterious benefactor in the rebuilding of the church. The most interesting tidbit they learned was that there was no basement to the new church and it was the one request of the anonymous donor that there be none.

Athos would be lying if he said that the knowledge of no basement wasn't devastating. If there was one space that Aramis would be, it was in a basement below Savoy's church, the original scene of the fire. What better way to torture someone than holding him where he'd lost his whole family?

“You were hoping he was here too, weren’t you?” Porthos asked quietly as they followed the priest around the grounds.

Athos nodded. “He still could be, there are plenty of buildings in this area.”

“I doubt it,” Porthos responded. “Father Thomas would’ve seen something. But we can ask him to keep a more vigilant eye out.”

Athos nodded again and tried not to be so discouraged.

\-----

The rest of their visit with the priest was uneventful as the man gave them a tour of the buildings. The concluded the tour at a small graveyard nestled out of the way behind the church. It was a memorial for the victims of the fire seven years ago. The graveyard was well kept, with fresh flowers and trimmed grass surrounding the graves. It was peaceful there, with the only sound being the birds singing their songs. Adele and Rene shared a gravestone situated front and centre. Porthos strode forward and knelt down beside the gravestone. He ran his fingers over the epitaph, letting out a sob as he read the engraved words.

_ And so make Life, Death and that vast forever, that one grand sweet song. _

“This is a lovely memorial,” Athos said to Father Thomas.

“They were a lovely couple,” Father Thomas replied. "I had the pleasure of knowing their families. I regret that I survived that night and they died. If only I stayed instead of going home..."

Athos reached over and laid his hand on the priest's shoulder. "The only difference is that you would be dead along with everyone else and unable to spread the word of God. That, my friend, is a noble cause to have survived for."

Father Thomas smiled and nodded. "Those are wise words. I do need to ask, why the sudden interest in Rene and Adele? It's been seven years, almost to the day."

Athos and Porthos traded a look, arguing in their gazes whether they should reveal the truth to the priest or not. In the end, telling Father Thomas the truth out-weighed keeping the secret. 

"Father," Porthos began. "Rene survived the fire. He has been living with us in Paris the entire time. Only now he goes by Aramis."

Father Thomas took a step backwards, shock transforming his face.

"Aramis was abducted a couple of days ago by who we believe was behind the fire. He never told us about any of this and we are trying to find as much information as we can. We hoped he would be here..."

Father Thomas took a few moments to compose himself before speaking. "I haven't seen any suspicious activity around here, but I've been away to a neighbouring parish. Please, anything I can do to help find him."

"Thank you, Father," Athos smiled. The more people they could get keeping an eye out for Victor or Aramis was an advantage they couldn't pass up.

Porthos looked again at the gravestone and gave a shudder at the thought of what might've been. "Let's get out of here," he said to Athos.

Athos agreed and clapped him on the shoulder as they walked away.

They left the church with the priest’s promises to keep an eye out for any sign of Aramis and headed back to the hotel. 

\-----

Now, sitting at the small rickety old table in the hotel room, Athos realised who their anonymous donor was. Who else would request no basement? Who else would want the donation to remain anonymous? Someone who shouldn’t be alive. Someone who experienced the horrors of losing an entire family trapped in a basement. Someone who would try their hardest to make sure no one else died in the same manner.

Aramis.

Athos pulled out his list of things to do while in Savoy and re-read it. The first was finding Aramis, but one of the important things he’d wanted to know was who the donor was. That mostly solved, he crossed it off and looked at the next thing on his list. The tour of the church had come up empty, nothing out of place and nothing to show Aramis was there, so he scratched that off as well. Another important task on Athos’ agenda was to compile a map of the crime scenes in relation to the church. The crimes stopped after the Savoy Massacre, so that made the church the focal point in this investigation. When Porthos and Athos pinned all the crime scenes on the map it formed a circle around the church. Well, it would be a full circle if it wasn't for the lake behind the church. It was like all signs were pointing to Aramis being at the church, except he was nowhere to be found on the grounds. Despite all they'd discovered, Athos still couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something about the church. 

He glanced at his watch, it was just after noon and Porthos had left well over an hour ago to find them some lunch. The town was large, but not quite large enough to justify Porthos being gone for so long. He was standing up to put his jacket on to go look for his partner when the man in question barged into the hotel room. Athos sighed, he was going to have to chat to Porthos about the virtues of staying in touch if someone was going to be delayed longer than normal. He also needed to have Aramis teach Porthos how to gently enter a room, instead of barrelling through doors like a bull in a china shop. First, though, they needed to find Aramis.

Porthos was on his cell phone nattering at whoever was on the opposite end of the call. He was flailing his one arm about while the other held the phone as close to his ear as possible. Athos cleared his throat and Porthos covered the speaker with his finger.

“Athos, there’s been a fire here in Savoy, Dr Lemay’s clinic went up in flames early this morning.”

Athos frowned, it seemed their intrepid duo had struck again. He wondered who the victim of this fire was and how they knew Aramis. He grabbed his wallet, badge, and gun, clipping the latter to his belt and tossing the rest into his jacket pocket.

“The victim what?” Porthos shouted into the phone. “Where is she? Really? No way… that’s new!”  

Athos couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line and Porthos’ random exclamations confused him. He tilted his head to the side waiting patiently for Porthos to finish his call and explain what the hell was going on.

Porthos nodded and waved Athos towards the vehicle as he finished up his conversation. “No, No Athos and I are on our way, we will be there in less than 10 minutes. I want to see if they can ID their attackers. I don’t think we need to investigate the clinic, your guys should suffice. Anyone else die? Oh, thank God for small miracles.”

He ended his conversation and tossed his phone into the centre console of their vehicle. Athos was vibrating with the need to know what was going on.

“Porthos.” He asked. He wasn’t going to move the vehicle an inch until his partner explained what was happening.

“There was a fire at Dr Lemay’s clinic, the local detectives are there now investigating. Athos, there was a survivor this time!”

Athos’ eyes widened at the news and his heart jumped into his throat as hope swelled in his chest. If there was a survivor they could positively identify their attackers. This could mean their first real break in the case other than some random pictures and theories. They could send out actual arrest warrants. With all France’s police forces on the lookout for Victor, this would improve their chances of finding Aramis.

“Athos? Did you hear me?” Porthos asked. “There is more. The victim is male and though he can’t speak for obvious reasons, he is awake and has provided us with a written statement.”

“Male? That’s new.” Athos responded still more than just a little bit in shock at this information. “I wonder what went wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Porthos asked frowning.

“It’s always been women that have been killed, why a male this time? Something went wrong. Who does Aramis know from Savoy, because for as long as I have known him, he has never travelled back here.”

“I hate it when you turn a good thing into a bad thing. Aramis hasn’t been to Savoy in at least five years and I don’t know of anyone he would know here anymore. He's supposed to be dead, so he wouldn’t contact anyone.” Porthos reasoned.

“Be that as it may, if they have switched up their tactics then they have become unpredictable. An unpredictable serial killer is far worse than one that is methodical. The situation has become so much more grave for Aramis and doesn’t bode well for us finding him. I don’t like this change Porthos, not one bit.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence contemplating what it meant for their investigation now that Victor had changed the rules. Athos  listened as Porthos called Serge, their old training officer, and former detective on the Savoy case, to compare details of this crime scene to the others.


	14. March 11, 2016 - Savoy Hospital - Athos and Porthos

**March 11, 2016 - Savoy Hospital - Athos and Porthos**

 

When they arrived at the hospital they were surprised to find out their victim was the owner of the Savoy Clinic, Dr Lemay. The doctor looked quite frail laying in the hospital bed, with bruises littering his upper body from the struggle to get away. Lemay’s neck was swathed in bandages from just under the chin to the top of the shoulders and he was sleeping off the sedative the nurses had just given him.  

The other thing that hadn’t escaped Porthos’ noticed was Lemay’s wrist shackled to the bedpost by a pair of metal handcuffs. There was also a guard standing just inside the door to the room. Porthos wasn’t sure if the man standing near the door was guarding a prisoner or preventing people from entering. When he’d spoken to Serge on the phone earlier he’d never mentioned that their victim would be in handcuffs or that he was suspected of anything.

“Why’s he cuffed to the bed?” Porthos asked the guard standing at the door.  “It’s not like he’s going anywhere. And who are you guarding, him or the media?”

The police guard shook his head and shrugged. “He confessed to playing a part in these crimes, so he stays cuffed. You’ll have to wait for the detectives to arrive from the crime scene for more information.”

Porthos grunted his displeasure at having to wait for an explanation and ignored Athos’ pointed look in his direction. Instead, he walked over to the other chair in the room and plopped down as Athos conversed with the guard at the door.

_ How is this my life? _ He thought to himself. Not for the first time did Porthos wish that Aramis had just stayed home with him the other morning. But, he supposed, if Isabelle really wanted his boyfriend, she would have just waited for another day and taken him then. This case was just so convoluted. He wasn’t sure at what point it had become this revenge plot against Aramis by two psychos. 

The worst part of this whole thing was that the man he was in love with wasn't who he claimed he was, but instead someone else. That alone was bothering Porthos more than he was letting Athos and d’Artagnan see.  Even though his friend’s had tried to help him understand who Aramis was at his core, he still had his doubts. The thing that scared Porthos the most, was Aramis might want to become Rene again, and would Rene want Porthos in his life?

Now they had their first male victim, which was their first actual survivor, and of course, he couldn’t talk because his throat was ripped open. Porthos had about a million questions and this man couldn’t even answer them. How did this man know Aramis? Had he seen Aramis? Was he ok? Did Aramis know they were looking for him?

Porthos bent over in his chair and rubbed his temples. He was developing a nasty headache from lack of sleep and it was only a matter of time before Athos noticed and forced him to sleep. He would have to remember to keep an eye on all beverages for the next bit just in case his partner slipped a sleeping pill in.

Athos clearing his throat brought Porthos out of his thoughts. He realised that the detectives from the Savoy precinct had arrived during his contemplations. He stood up and smiled at Serge. The ageing detective introduced them to his fellow officer and handed Athos a small bundle of paper.

“It’s Lemay’s written statement, he typed it up before they drugged him,” Serge explained. “He’s confessed to helping Victor and Isabelle Amadeus kidnap and murder all the victims from 2009 and now. He had access to drugs of all sorts and helped them treat minor injuries. Then he'd inject them with a drug to make them pliable and easy to move to the crime scene. They were also given a blood thinner to make their deaths quicker.”

Athos took the copy of the statement and flipped through it. To his surprise, the document was several pages long and quite detailed.

“Did he see Aramis?” Porthos asked Athos, almost afraid of the answer. He wanted it to be no because then Aramis wasn’t in the hands of Isabelle, but at the same time wanted it to be yes. He wanted to know how Aramis was doing, if he knew they were looking for him, if he was cold because Aramis hated being cold. He wanted to know if they were feeding him because Aramis tended to forget to eat. Porthos was always shoving food in Aramis’ direction, making the man eat.

Serge nodded and glanced towards the still unconscious Dr Lemay laying on the bed. “He writes about a person named Rene being in the cell with him and does his best to describe in detail where your friend is…”

“But… I sense a but coming.” Porthos asked, terrified of the answer.

“They kept a hood over his face so he wouldn’t know where they were going. He did mention that it was close and that he felt as though he wasn’t in the vehicle for more than twenty or so minutes...” Serge said.

Porthos’ heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure he was going to drop dead from it exploding. His boyfriend was close.

“And Aramis?” Porthos asked. He crowded into Athos’ personal space, trying to read over the man’s shoulders.

Athos glared at Porthos’ intrusion into his personal bubble and pushed him back with his hand before continuing. “Lemay describes an underground cell, he remembers walking down a long flight of stairs. He describes it as cold and lit only by one light hanging from the wall and there are no windows.”

“What else, Athos? Does he say anything else about Aramis?” Porthos asked impatiently.

“Yes, let me get to it and stop interrupting me,” Athos growled. “Aramis is locked in a cell with a collar around his neck and a chain bolted to the floor. Lemay says that Isabelle is trying to force him to fall in love with her, Victor is planning on killing both Isabelle and Rene.”

“What? Wait… back up for a second Athos, if Lemay healed those women, it was because they were hurt. Is Aramis hurt?” Porthos asked.

Serge answered this time. “Lemay was treating Rene for a broken leg, a couple of head wounds and other various bumps and bruises.”

“Son of a bitch broke his leg?” Porthos raged. “Athos, we need to get Aramis out of there now. And when we find him, Victor is mine.”

“This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation, Porthos,” Athos said. He placed both hands on Porthos’ shoulders, squeezing tight until some of the tension bled from his muscles. “We will finish this conversation at the hotel, I promise. Let’s please just finish up here first.”

Porthos grunted. He wasn’t happy with the news and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Aramis was hurt and his only desire was to wring someone’s neck.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Athos asked referring to Lemay. “What’s the prognosis of his neck?”

“He’s losing his license to practice medicine and will be in jail for a long time,” Serge said. “It’s a blow to the community to know of Dr Lemay's involvement in all this. He's loved and well respected here, but I guess you never really know someone. He won’t be talking for a long time, though, if ever again. The doctors figure the only way he was saved was because of his height and strength. Victor hit his Adam's apple on the first try. While Lemay struggled to get out of his arms, Victor tried again and nicked his trachea. There was so much blood from both cuts that Lemay played dead and Victor fell for the ruse. Also, his survival is being kept from the media, to protect him and his family from retaliation.”

Athos nodded and hugged Serge, thanking him for his help. They left the hospital a bit more optimistic than when they’d arrived.  

  
  


**March 11, 2016 - D’Artagnan’s House - D’Artagnan**

 

He’d done it. He’d actually found her and there was no one around to congratulate him or celebrate with him. Athos and Porthos were in Savoy and his Uncle was probably asleep at the precinct.

He could go there he supposed _ … Nah he’d let the man rest for a little bit longer. _

D’Artagnan hadn’t slept a wink that night and was bound to crash sooner or later. He'd developed an obsession with finding Ninon and persisted all night, becoming increasingly agitated after endless dead ends and frustrations. Until now.

On a whim, he’d broadened his search to countries bordering France and found her in London, England. She’d remarried five years ago into the Clerbeaux family and had three children, two girls and a boy. He was able to find an address to where they lived and school records for two of her children. For a long moment, his curiosity almost got the better of him and he was close to hacking into the school records but felt that was pushing it a bit too far. The children weren’t involved and should be able to remain anonymous. There was also a phone listing for Ninon and he desperately wanted to call her now. He checked his watch, surprised to find it was only eight in the morning, which was a bit early on a Friday morning for a phone call, but he couldn’t wait.

The phone rang 3 times before a frazzled sounding woman answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Ninon de Larroque?”

“Well now,” the woman said. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time, may I ask who wants to know?”

“I’m so sorry, I should have introduced myself first. My name is Charles d’Artagnan and I am helping detective de la Fere with an investigation. Your name appears on several of the files and we would like to speak to you in regards to it.”

There was such a long awkward silence that d’Artagnan was beginning to think that they’d been disconnected when she finally spoke. This time, her voice was cold and formal. “There are many cases I worked on as Ninon de Larroque, could you be more specific?”

“Our friend Aramis de Vannes went missing two days ago, you may know him better as Rene d’Herblay.”

There was an audible gasp on the other end of the line before Ninon spoke again. “I’m sorry. I am busy today and I don’t recall anyone by the name or Aramis or Rene. I do hope you find him.”

With that, she hung up.

_ Well, crap. _

Not one to stop and think things through before barrelling head first into situations, d’Artagnan dialled her number again. This time, she picked up on the first ring.

“You have some nerve,” Ninon said. “I said I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You don’t understand, he’s been my friend for seven years and he never said anything about a fire or being married and losing everything in one night. We don’t know where he is and we desperately want to find him.”

“I understand far more than you even know,” Ninon sighed, “I can’t go through this again, don’t you  _ understand _ that?”

He supposed she was right, he _ didn’t  _ understand why she wouldn’t jump at the chance to help her dead sister's husband. He could, however,  _ sympathize _ on why she felt she couldn’t go through this again.

“But we need your help! There are so many questions we have for you,” d’Artagnan pleaded. 

“Who’s we?” Ninon asked suddenly.

D’Artagnan took a moment of silence, trying to figure out how much he should tell her. Ninon seemed like a woman who appreciated honesty and if he wanted to convince her to help he knew he would have to divulge some information.

“Along with being Aramis’ best friend, we went to University for our master’s degrees together and work at the same hospital. Detectives de la Fere and Du Vallon are also his friends. I realise now that it sounds super convenient that they are police officers, but… Detective du Vallon is Aramis’ boyfriend. He means the absolute world to us and we want to find him.”

There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone and d’Artagnan was preparing himself for another hangup when Ninon finally spoke. 

“I’m glad Rene has friends looking out for him. It was a bleak future we were facing after the fire,” she responded softly. “Fair enough, you have five minutes to ask your questions before I have to tend to my children.”

D’Artagnan was barely breathing in excitement, things were looking up for the first time in two days. He scrambled for a notepad and a pen to write down her answers. “What happened the night of the fire?”

“That’s a story that will take longer than five minutes, be more specific.”

He frowned.  _ Specific… hmmm… _ “Why the aliases?”

“We were the first two survivors of the infamous Savoy serial killers. Rene and I lost just about everything that night and neither of us were ready to make decisions about what was going to happen next. I remember Rene sitting on the steps of the church covered in Adele’s blood holding… nevermind. Anyways, he and I raced to a friend’s place and hid away so that no one knew there were any survivors. My friend pulled some strings and we entered into our own version of witness protection.”

“Why didn’t you wait for the police to figure all that out? What happened after you were given new lives?”

“There were extenuating circumstances, we figured that this was the product of the serial killers and since we were the first survivors ever, we felt the need to disappear fast. Also, everyone we loved was dead, would you trust the police when they couldn’t even catch the bad guy? In the end, it took us nearly a week to tie up loose ends. Rene went to Paris and I left France, got married, had children, and I’ve never been back.” She said.

D’Artagnan was pleased to be getting some real information finally, but something was still missing. He had this feeling in his gut that Ninon was still hiding something, but what?

“Why weren’t you in the reception hall that night?” He asked.

“I’m a lawyer," She said as if that explained everything. "There was no cell service in the hall and I needed to make a phone call.” 

“Have you been in contact with Aramis in recent years?”

“Once or twice a year, usually near Easter and again in the fall.”

That was news! Aramis never mentioned he'd kept in touch with someone from his past. But then considering their current situation was it really all that big of a surprise? He decided not to dwell on that bit of info for the time being and moved on to the one thing that Athos wanted to know about.

“What’s in the sealed file?”

“Nothing that will help you find him,” she responded curtly. “Do you know who has him?”

“We have a couple of people that are of interest, but please don’t change the subject, maybe you don’t think what’s in the file will help, but let us be the judge of that?”

“No, what is in there will remain sealed until Rene decides to open it,” Ninon said. The phone rustled a bit and d’Artagnan could imagine her running her hand through her hair in frustration. “Look I don’t mean to sound cruel, but there is a reason that file was sealed. It’s to protect all parties involved and is a pandora’s box which I am not ready to have opened. I hope you find Rene, I really do. But I can’t help you any further.”

When she hung up for the second time d’Artagnan decided to leave her be for now. She’d alluded to the file being more important than they’d ever thought and he now had an even greater desire to find out what was inside it and hoped he could convince her soon. In the meantime, he needed to inform his Uncle of the conversation. He also hoped they could convince Ninon to make a trip to Paris to meet them all.

 

**March 11, 2016 - London, England - Ninon**

This couldn’t be happening. It felt like everything was coming to screeching halt. Ninon leant against the wall, following it down until she was sitting on the ground, her cell phone still in her hand. The sounds of her children running through the house and of her husband frying up bacon faded away into the background. She ran her hands through her hair and rested her head on her knees. She was cold, clammy and beginning to shake despite the warmth of the house around her.

She and Rene never planned for this, they’d been foolish to assume they'd never be found out. But someone  _ had found out _ because Rene was missing and those detectives were digging into his past. How did they find  _ her _ , though? It’s not like the de Larroque name was a real name, only an alias. She knew that some of the files were signed in her name, but that was so no one knew Ninon Bessette was still alive. Dammit, she wanted to call that man back and ask questions of her own.

Ninon wanted to know who had Rene, and she berated herself for not pushing this d’Artagnan person harder for who they suspected. She’d tried to keep in touch with the goings on in Savoy and Paris since the fire, but life had a way of distracting a person and she hadn’t paid attention to current events in a long time. 

An idea came to mind and she found herself thinking of someone she hadn’t thought of in years. What if this was all Victor’s doing? Ninon was going to have to check to see if he was still in jail, because if he wasn’t, her family was no longer safe. If Rene’s friends found her, there was no doubt Victor would find her as well. 

She felt a burning need to hop on a plane and fly straight to Paris to help Rene’s friends. But of course, she couldn't, there was a larger matter to deal with here. She had to tell her family the truth and there was one particular secret that would tear them apart.

Strengthening her resolve she stood up and straightened her shirt. She’d tell them the whole truth and then if they chose to forgive her, she’d decide what her next step would be. She owed that much and more to Rene for saving her life and offering her a chance to live.

“Honey?” She called to her husband. “Can you gather the children in the living room, I have a story to tell…”


	15. April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - The Fire pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you all go, part 2 of the fire :) *hides*
> 
> There is a mildly graphic/gory scene midway through.

**_April 10, 2009 - Good Friday - The Fire pt. 2_ **

_ It’s amazing how many things flutter through a person’s mind in times of stress or peril, especially in such a short period of time. In Rene’s case, it took less than five seconds to run from the nave to the foyer of the church to discover who was screaming.  _

_ In those five seconds, he said goodbye to his entire family. He said goodbye to his Mama and Papa. He said goodbye to Adele and the sweet daughter he’d never meet. He said goodbye to his best friend, Marsac, who he hoped would get out of the church in time.  _

_ Rene didn't believe that he would escape this church with his own life and instead focussed his efforts on saving someone who could still be alive. Because what did Rene have left to live for? Distant cousins, who hadn’t been able to attend the wedding? The families of the friends who died here tonight? There wasn’t even a connection between him and the Bessette family anymore. No, Rene was alone and it was sounding more and more appealing to just curl up under a pew and allow death’s cold fingers to reap his soul. _

_ Could he live with himself, though, knowing someone was alive and doing nothing about it? In Rene’s mind it was akin to murder and as a Christian, he’d be judged and found guilty at heaven’s gates. With no time to beg for forgiveness and perform penance, Rene wouldn’t find eternal rest for his soul. So he forced one foot in front of the other until he was running full speed. _

_ When he reached the foyer his mind was back in the present and he knew he had mere seconds before the ceiling split open as the steeple crashed through. Rene saw a woman in the corner, trying to dislodge her long dress from under a column that had crashed to the ground. He ran to her and tore her dress from under the beam just as a loud groan resonated through the room. He grabbed the screaming woman’s waist and barrelled through the large wooden doors at the front of the church.  _

_ The two landed with a thud on the wide concrete porch as the steeple fell over. The windows exploded, sending shards of stained glass flying outwards, a large chunk slicing Rene’s forehead. He paid his wound no attention as he took hold of the woman he’d just saved and covered her with his body. She struggled underneath him, screaming and trying to push him off of her. He only held on tighter, determined to keep her safe from any more flying debris. He yelled at her to close her eyes but he was drowned out by the walls collapsing in on themselves with a massive crash. _

_ “GET OFF OF ME!” The woman underneath him shouted after the church had finally settled behind them.  _

_ “Ninon! Stop!” Rene shouted back as she began struggling underneath him again.  _

_ Ninon stilled. “Rene? Oh God, you’re alive, I thought I was the only one!” _

_ “What happened?” Rene asked as he picked himself up off the ground and helped Adele’s sister up. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her, he needed comfort and wanted to offer some comfort of his own. He was being selfish, but he couldn't help being grateful that he wasn’t alone in the grief at the loss of everything. How was he going to survive this? How was his heart meant to keep on beating when it was torn asunder? _

_ Ninon was shaking, and still hysterical, shouting that she needed to go back inside. She couldn’t stand still and moved out of his embrace, though she still gripped his hand. “I had a phone call and I went to my car to answer it. Judge Richelieu needed me immediately and I was just headed back down to the reception hall to tell everyone. I had to leave…Oh God, they are all dead! Mom and Dad.” She tried to pull her hand out of Rene’s to move back towards the church, but he held fast, preventing her from going anywhere.  _

_ “Adele met me outside, we saw the church was on fire and ran back inside yelling for everyone to get out. The beam smashed down onto my stupid dress and I couldn’t get it out. I turned to get Adele’s help, but she wasn’t with me, she never came inside. I heard her scream! Rene where is she?” _

_ Did he dare hope? “I never saw her! Are you telling me she could still be alive?” _

_ Both he and Ninon spun around, ignoring the raging bonfire of the church behind them and peered into the darkness calling out her name.  _

_ In the end, they didn’t get far. At the base of the steps leading up to the church, they found Adele. Her eyes were wide open in death, blood coating the concrete below her. Her neck was cut open, and she had one hand across her throat and the other laid gently upon her pregnant stomach. Ninon screamed and scrambled down the steps to Adele’s side, sobbing into her chest. Rene stumbled towards his wife, in shock and wishing that she’d died alongside her family and not alone. He wished that the last time he’d seen her was when he’d left the reception hall with Marsac. Her smiling face that would never smile again.  _

_ “What happened here tonight?” He asked in a sob. He couldn’t start crying because if he did he’d never stop. Ever. But he was crying nonetheless. “Who would do something like this?” _

_ He knelt down next to Adele and gently closed her eyes. He ran his shaking hand through her once vibrant red hair. He touched her lips with his fingertips, traced her pale cheek with the back of his palm and bent down to kiss her forehead. He laid his head down on her stomach whispering sweet nothings to the baby as tears ran down his cheeks. The force of his sorrow was causing him to heave and gasp with every breath he took. _

_ It was faint at first, the small thump against his ear as he was singing a lullaby for his daughter. He waited a moment and his eyes widened when he felt the thump again. “Ninon!” He shouted. “Good God the baby is still alive, get me something sharp! NOW!” _

_ Ninon jumped up and grabbed a shard of stained glass and handed it to Rene who was tossing Adele’s skirts away so he could access the stomach. He took the glass and sliced at the base of the belly, moving muscle, skin and organs to the side. He saw the head first and gently pulled her out. He flipped her over, placing her bottom higher than her head so that any mucus would drain out. “Ninon, rub her feet, she isn’t breathing.” _

_ "What if that doesn't work?" _

_ "Then we run our hands up and down her spine. Hurry!" _

_ Ninon took the tiny feet in her hand and pressed her thumbs into the soles firmly and rubbed up and down. They were rewarded with a shrill cry moments later as the baby screamed her anger at being disturbed from her slumber. Rene flipped her back over, making soft shushing sounds until she quieted. _

_ “She’s cold, take her for a moment,” he said as he handed Ninon the baby. He shrugged his jacket off and wrapped his daughter in it snuggly. "Tie your hair ribbon around the umbilical cord near to the belly." He instructed.  _

_ Ninon handed the baby back to Rene so that she could pick up the piece of glass and cut the umbilical cord, severing the last physical tie to Adele. _

_ She sat back after tossing the glass piece to the ground and stared blankly at the burning church. She pulled her legs in and laid her head on Rene’s shoulder, shaking with silent sobs. For Rene, though, a sense of calm washed over him and he only had eyes for his daughter cradled in his arms. She had a full head of hair that he hoped would be red once it was dry, and beautiful eyes that he could already tell were brown like his. She was staring at her father intently, little forehead wrinkled in wonder. “You’re beautiful, absolutely breathtaking, don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” He whispered to the baby as she cooed in response.  _

_ “I don’t even understand,” Ninon began once she could form words again. “Everyone is dead and yet here you and I sit beside a burning church and you’re holding a tiny miracle in your hands. How do we go on living our lives when no one else had the same chance?” _

_ Rene took a long time to answer, he was trying to find the right words to say. In the end, it was a shriek from the baby girl in his arms that gave him the answer and the strength to give voice to it. _

_ “We do it for her,” he said as he angled his daughter's face towards Ninon. “We’ve been given a second chance and she is going to need us to be strong.” _

_ Ninon nodded and took a deep breath before kissing the baby on the forehead. She stood up and offered Rene her hand to help him stand. While Ninon shuffled around straightening Adele’s dress and arranging her sister back to how they’d found her, Rene walked back up the steps to the church, making a point to not look at his dead wife’s body. It wasn’t that he was trying to forget her, he was just trying to keep his emotions in check and didn’t want to start crying again. _

_ He was running through the day’s events in his mind, remembering all the wonderful things about the day when a hand on his shoulder startled him. “This wasn’t an accident,” Ninon said.  “This is the exact same thing that’s been happening for three months, the murders and the fires. No one has survived this until us and I don’t think we were meant to have survived.” _

_ Rene looked around at the darkened land around the church and felt his skin prickle with a sense of foreboding. This did sound like the infamous serial killers who were murdering people and setting fires to buildings. And Ninon was right, no one had survived so far and never had it been such a large grouping of people killed. It was always just two, or at least that was all the police revealed to the media. What made this time different? _

_ Ninon continued. “We need to get out of here, now. It’s too quiet.” She was also looking around, eyes jumping all over the place trying to see something in the darkness. “I know someone, the Judge, he’ll help us, no one can know about her until they find out who did this.” _

_ Rene nodded and pulled his daughter closer into his chest. “Do you think Victor had a hand in this?”  _

_ “I don’t know, doubtful as he’s in jail and I would’ve heard something if things changed. It’s just… there is a chill in the air and a sense of wrongness. Do you feel it?” _

_ Rene agreed. “I’m sure if it was Victor we would know because Isabelle would be back. She can’t stay away from him. But she can’t stay away from me either and I would know.” He would wouldn’t he? He could hear the sirens in the distance and he wondered why they were so late in responding, but it was a fleeting thought that was out of his mind in seconds. _

_ "We should go before the police get here, something tells me they shouldn't know we are alive," She said. _

_ “I think you are right,” Rene responded. He couldn’t explain it, but the foreboding feeling intensified suddenly and he knew without a doubt that hiding the fact that his daughter lived was the best decision. _

_ Ninon raced off down the walkway to the parking lot to start her car as Rene took one last look at the burning rubble behind him. A glimmer on the ground next to Adele’s body caught his eye and he reached down to pick up a piece of stained glass. It was a small cross, completely intact from the explosion earlier and covered in blood from where he’d cut Adele open.  _

_ He smiled and looked upwards to the heavens and said, “Thank you.” Adjusting the baby in his arms, he slipped the cross into his pant’s pocket and ran after Ninon. _

 

**_April 11, 2009 - Judge Richelieu’s Office - Richelieu, Ninon and Rene_ **

 

_ “You realise,” Judge Richelieu began. He leant back in his chair, staring at Rene and Ninon gravely. “That once you sign this, you are no longer Rene d’Herblay and Ninon Bessette? That the adoption of this little girl, once filed, will be legal and binding. Are you prepared?” _

_ Rene’s daughter, as if knowing she was a topic of conversation squawked in her sleep and the room's occupants laughed nervously.  _

_ “Are you sure you want to give your daughter to me?” Ninon asked. _

_ Rene shook his head, tears threatening to pour from his eyes. No, he was absolutely not sure of this, How could anyone ever be sure about giving up their blood? But he knew without a shadow of a doubt it was the right thing to do. His daughter needed a mother more than she needed her father. They were going into hiding, adopting new lives and creating new backstories, at least until the killers were found. He still had Victor to deal with when he was released from jail and the constant threat that Isabelle would resurface. No, this sweet baby girl needed to be as far away from him as humanly possible. But oh, would he miss her.  _

_ The strings that Ninon pulled here tonight, and would continue to pull with the help of the judge would ensure the safety of his daughter. Adele’s autopsy report, his daughter's adoption records, birth papers and the life insurance documents would be sealed by the courts. All of the life insurance money from Rene’s side of the family would be rerouted into an account for his daughter to access when she was of age. There would also be enough for a sizeable donation to the rebuilding of the Savoy Church. The money from Ninon’s side of the family would take care of the general day to day upbringing of his daughter and to aide Ninon in beginning her new life. _

_ “I won’t ever cut her out of your life, Rene. You know that right? We are going to keep in touch, you and I. I will send pictures.” _

_ Rene nodded and sniffled. “Don’t tell her about me, she won’t understand when she gets older why her Daddy didn’t keep her.”  _

_ He looked down at his daughter, cradled and asleep in his arms and lifted her to give her a kiss on her forehead. He saw Ninon wipe away the tears from her own eyes and sign the documents that the judge had laid out on his desk. Then he took the pen from her and signed them as well.  _

_ He was officially no longer Rene and was now someone named Aramis de Vannes.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It would be highly unlikely that the baby would last that long without oxygen... but imagine that Victor/Isabelle have literally just killed Adele and then Rene and Ninon arrive on the scene.
> 
> Aside from that, I knew all along that Rene's daughter was going to survive the fire, I just didn't know how it was going to happen.


	16. March 17, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry... but please, just trust me?
> 
> Also, please note that we have jumped a week.

**March 17, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

 

Aramis had lost count of how long he’d been Isabelle and Victor’s prisoner. Without the sun to mark the passage of time, the days tended to meld together. The food was delivered sporadically, sometimes many times a day and sometimes only once. He could already feel the clothing that Isabelle gave him, loosening. His visits with Isabelle increased as she stepped up her game to win him back to her side. Each day she was relentless in her warfare, bringing him pictures of his friends, detailing their future life together and picking at him in the hopes he would crack. At the end of each visit, she would list off all the things he did wrong, explain how he was expected to improve and then dole out his punishments. Of course, Aramis was never one to roll over and give up, so he spent most of his time suffering Isabelle’s wrath. She never hit him, she didn't need to; the soft caresses and cuddling were enough to make him sick to his stomach. Victor was never allowed back into the cell without her supervision, but he always found a way to knock his pride and hope down a notch or two.

He was tired. Tired of being locked up, tired of being attacked by Isabelle, tired of being berated and reminded of Adele by Victor. He was tired of being reminded that he would never see his friends again and tired of being reminded that he was to blame for all the deaths over seven years. He knew that the two psychos were succeeding in chipping away at his resolve and he was worried about how well it was working.

He wished he hadn’t shown weakness and took Isabelle’s comfort when Victor broke his leg. It gave the woman false hope that he was finally seeing things her way. She hadn’t wasted any opportunity to invade his personal space to cuddle every time she visited.

He was tired of fighting them. He wanted to go home.

“What the hell is this!” Isabelle shrieked.

She came stalking into Aramis’ small prison waving his cell phone frantically. He was still laid out on the cot, not having moved much in the week since Victor snapped his leg in two. Having some knowledge of setting bones, Aramis figured his leg would be ok if he didn’t jostle it too much. He wasn’t sure if it would hold his weight, much less walk, as leg injuries usually required surgery and pins to support the bones. Aramis knew if he ever got out of here, he would likely need his leg broken again and put back together. Until then he was determined not to aggravate the injury any further and because Isabelle kept his “leash” short, it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter anyways.

“Answer me!” She growled. She was angry, that much he could tell. She was shaking and if it was at all possible that she own these kinds of emotions, she looked devastated and betrayed. His heart plummeted at the realisation that she’d hacked into his cell phone. Damn.

She held the phone close to his face, demanding that he answer her question as he went cross-eyed trying to see what was on the screen. It was a picture of him and his boyfriend, laughing at Athos, the picture taker. It was Aramis’ current favourite picture of the two.

“What the hell is the meaning of this? Text after text, picture after picture, email after email, of Porthos. You lied to me! You told me Porthos meant nothing to you!” She shouted, pulling the phone back from his face and resumed flipping through the pictures. “How long?”

Aramis groaned, he knew he should’ve cleared his phone the other night. His boyfriend had been nagging him to get it done for ages now so that he could free space on his phone, but Aramis liked keeping all the pictures and messages and emails. Sometimes they were daily reminders how lucky he was to find a group of people like Athos, d’Artagnan, and Porthos. He and his detective boyfriend were like night and day in a lot of ways. Porthos thrived on order and consistency, where Aramis loved being spontaneous and open. Which in hindsight, he realised, made him a hypocrite for hiding his past from everyone he claimed to love so dearly. He vowed if he ever was able to see Porthos again, the man could say I told you so as many times as he wished.

“Answer. Me.” She said again. So far Aramis hadn’t said a word, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t trigger the crazy and while he didn’t want to speak at all, he wasn’t given the choice.

He whispered, “Five years.”

Isabelle gasped and stared at Aramis. Her chest was heaving in anger, the fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding the phone tangled in her blond curls, tugging them. Aramis just stared back at her, waiting for the inevitable explosion from this volatile woman. Her eyes filled with tears and she whimpered softly, the sides of her mouth quivering downwards. Despite expecting her reaction to the admission of his and Porthos’ long term serious relationship, Aramis still jumped when Isabelle screamed long and loud. She flung his cell phone to the ground, stomping on it with her foot, twisting and grinding it into the ground.

“Now you have nothing!” She shouted, as if breaking the phone permanently separated him from Porthos.

Aramis flinched and leaned away from her wrath when she looked at him. “This isn’t fair,” he said softly before adding. “I love him. Why are you trying to destroy my life?”

“You lied,” she exclaimed. “You told me he meant nothing! Did you think I wasn’t going to find out?” She began pacing back and forth, mumbling loud enough for Aramis to hear, but not coherent enough to understand everything. It didn’t matter, though, he understood plenty and with growing dread, he realised what was going to happen.

Porthos was going to die. Victor and Isabelle were going to kill him. They would slit his throat and leave him dead in front of a burning building just like they had for Adele. Aramis was going to lose a second person who meant more than the world to him. Part of him knew that it was only a matter of time before Isabelle went looking for his friends. She was a jealous woman and his closeness with his friends was perceived in the wrong light. He should have known better than to find friends and people to love again after the first losses. Putting them in a position for Isabelle to wreak havoc in their lives was just another thing in a long list of things that Aramis would forever hate himself for.

Aramis let Isabelle’s insane ramblings fade into the background as the guilt for Porthos’ impending death crushed him. His own stupidity in not clearing his phone and for not believing Isabelle meant business, had now placed Porthos on the chopping block. Maybe she’d fail and Porthos would get away, and for a moment a small sliver of hope broke through the growing fear. But when he looked back at the past deaths, there had been no survivors except for himself and Ninon. The odds were not in his favour.

 

**March 18, 2016 - Somewhere in France - Aramis**

Aramis was resting on the cot the next morning when Isabelle and Victor strolled in. It’d been a long night of sleeplessness for him as his brain refused to shut down. Images, thoughts, and memories flew through his mind and there was no slowing it down. He tossed and turned, mindful of his leg, all through the night, replaying everything that was happening, or had already happened trying to figure out where he messed up. So he was truly exhausted, hungry and slightly out of his sane mind when Victor spoke.

“My man in the police department tells me that there was another survivor of the fire, Rene. Supposedly your friends are looking for someone named Ninon de Larroque and I remember Adele having a stunning older sister named Ninon.” Victor’s voice was filled with every sleazy undertone possible.

Unfortunately for Victor, Aramis wasn’t the only one to catch the promise in his voice. Isabelle smacked him on the shoulder and pouted. “Victor, remember who you are married to?”

‘Oh God, Isabelle, you are practically prepared to make Rene your love slave, allow me my indulgences. Now, what I want to know, is how she managed to escape. Care to explain?” He said all his focus on Aramis once more.

“I have no clue what you are talking about, I was the only one who survived. You two murdered everyone else.” Aramis hoped he sounded convincing enough.

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t know your sister in law was alive,” Victor responded. “And it’s highly suspicious that both of you changed your names and vanished for seven years all without contacting each other the entire time.”

Aramis showed no reaction to Victor’s claims, it was of the utmost importance that he not know about his daughter being alive. It was one thing to be obsessed over Adele, to want to kill him and even find Ninon, but his little girl needed to be kept safe from Victor’s clutches. He would not allow Isabelle or Victor to corrupt his daughter, even if it meant he would suffer to keep her safe. She was what both he and Ninon lived for, she was the only reason he was able to pick himself up and create a life for himself seven years ago.

“He’s not going to answer you, love,” Isabelle stated. “Tell him about Marsac.”

Aramis turned his head to the side where Victor and Isabelle were standing at the bars of his cell. They had their arms wrapped tight around one another in a disgusting, smug display of affection. They were both grinning like mad like they’d just walked into the largest candy shop and could  have anything they wanted.

“What?” He couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming.

“He’s not dead either, he showed up at the police precinct to speak to your boyfriend. He was there for hours and judging by your reaction just now, you didn’t know he was alive.” Victor said, smirking. “Doesn’t matter, though, just adds another person to the list of people that have to die.”

Marsac was alive? He made it out of the church in time? Aramis felt a new level of guilt settle in his chest, why hadn’t he looked to see if anyone else survived? How could he have been so selfish?

“It’s sad really, that you find out that your best friend is alive on the same day you find out your boyfriend has been murdered.” Victor continued. “Oh don’t look at me like that Rene, you knew it was inevitable that he was going to die. Did you think I would allow you the privilege of someone you love staying alive? I only regret that I can’t kill all your friends, but I am running out of time.”

“Porthos isn’t dead, I don’t believe you.” Aramis tried so hard not to sob, to stop his voice from cracking as he said those words because he knew they were telling the truth.

They laughed, Isabelle’s a high pitched, squeaking laugh and Victor’s a deep baritone rumble.

“Believe us or don’t, we don’t care. By Good Friday next week you’ll be dead and this can all end. You’ll have paid, with your life, for taking my Adele from me and for not loving Isabelle as she should’ve been loved.”

Victor laughed and pulled Isabelle closer. He tilted her chin up and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. Aramis swallowed thickly, the bile in his stomach threatening to rise.

“Porthos struggled for so long, his death wasn’t quick and he didn’t call out for you once. How does it feel Rene, to know that the one you love didn’t even spare a thought for you in his last moments?” Victor teased.

“How?” Aramis asked almost dreading the answer.

“Same way Adele died, sliced his throat open from one end to another. He didn’t even see it coming,” Victor said gleefully. “It wasn’t difficult to find him either. Followed him around a little bit, scouted out his car and then waited until he went home.”

Isabelle giggled, “Oh you should have seen the flames shooting off the top of the townhouses, Rene, they lit up the sky! I regret we couldn’t stay longer, but with you missing there were quite a few cops around.”

“No…” Aramis sobbed.

“I had such high hopes for us,” Isabelle continued. “White picket fences and growing old together. Such a waste…” She paused, waiting for a reaction, or a glimpse of regret from him, before continuing. “Maybe these will help.”

She nodded at Victor and he tossed a couple of objects through the bars of the cell. Aramis watched them flutter to the ground as they left his cell hand in hand, laughing.

Aramis lay there for a long moment, thinking over what had just happened. He was in a state of disbelief. Porthos couldn’t be gone, could he? He’d never hear his boyfriend’s laugh again or run his hands through his dark curls. He’d never be able to argue  with him over how many soap operas he had taped at Athos. He’d just never be able to be held and comforted by the larger man ever again.

Aramis scrambled off his cot, his leg hindering any grace or coordination he may still have possessed. Isabelle had extended his chain the previous night, but even so, it wasn’t long enough and he drew up a foot short of reaching the two objects. It didn’t matter, though because this close he could see the two things for what they were. Porthos’ detective badge that he’d worked so hard to get and was incredibly proud of, covered in dried blood. Beside the bloodied badge lay a picture of his boyfriend's lifeless body, throat cut completely open, lying in a pool of blood.

Just like Adele, only not…

Porthos faced away from the camera and Aramis felt a small sliver of relief at that. He didn’t know if he could survive if he saw those brown eyes staring at him lifelessly.

Lifeless… Oh God… The gravity of the situation slammed into him full force.

He’d once thought losing Adele was the end of the world, but this…

He coughed, the acid in his stomach burning its way up his throat.

This was…

Aramis couldn’t even finish the thought, he rolled over and retched all over the floor, heaving until there was nothing left and then heaving some more.

He lay on the ground, arm stretched towards the badge… so close to Porthos and yet forever so far.

Was this what it felt like to have no hope left?


	17. Spring 2012 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Porthos and Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go... I hope this helps.

**_Spring 2012 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Porthos and Aramis_ **

 

_ “Aramis! What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Porthos shouted. He’d just come home from a long day at work to find his boyfriend peering out of the front window with binoculars. _

_ Aramis’ response didn’t even shock him, which was concerning because it really should. _

_ “Spying.” _

_ “You could get arrested for what you are doing. I could arrest you for what you are doing!” _

_ Porthos could hear the grin from across the room and barely refrained from groaning. His boyfriend had a penchant for turning everything into something r-rated. _

_ Aramis grinned harder and continued his spying. “I don’t like the metal handcuffs, Porthos, they hurt my wrists.” _

_ “You liked them last time,” Porthos said. He shut the outer door with a click and walked over to his boyfriend, plucking the binoculars out of the man’s hands. _

_ “Hey, I was using those!” Aramis exclaimed. He got up off the couch, face flushed in annoyance and placed his hands on his hips. “Give it back, I’m doing research.” _

_ “What kind of research involves spying on a neighbour moving in across the street?” Porthos trailed off as he watched their new neighbour exit his door to pick up more boxes from his car. The man looked exactly like himself! What the hell? _

_ He turned to Aramis and glared at the man until he broke eye contact. “Really, Aramis?” _

_ Aramis fidgeted where he stood, not meeting Porthos’ eyes once. “You wouldn’t actually arrest me would you?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “There was no harm done, he didn’t even know I was looking at him. I just wanted to see the new people moving in. That’s when I noticed how much he resembled you… then I had to get a closer look.” _

_ “And what would you have done if he did see you? what if he called the police?” Porthos stated. “No Aramis, I am not going to arrest you. But you can’t just--” _

_ Aramis interrupted. He completely ignored Porthos in favour of taking the binoculars back and staring out the window again. “He does look like you, though, you have to admit it. He’s a little less hairy which reminds me, you need a haircut.” _

_ “Stop changing the subject, Aramis and give me those!” Porthos went to reach for the binoculars again, narrowly missing them as his boyfriend dodged out of the way. _

_ “Catch me first,” Aramis taunted, before running across the room to the stairs. “Oh, and bring the handcuffs.” _


	18. March 17, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos and Porthos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this week, longish one next week :)

 

**March 17, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos and Porthos**

 

“There’s been another fire, Porthos,” Athos said. His partner wasn’t going to like this news at all. His and Aramis’ neighbour from across the street was dead and his house set on fire. The fire was burning out of control, threatening to spread to the other townhouses in the row. Since Porthos’ place was directly across from the fire, Athos figured his partner would want to be in the area in case his house also went up in flames. When he saw the look on Porthos’ face, he knew the man was already aware of the news. His partner was opening drawers and tossing papers all over in his office looking for something.

“I heard,” replied Porthos. “Treville just told me to get over there. I can’t find my badge, Athos, did I even bring it with me this morning? Did you see it when you picked me up this morning?”

Porthos and Athos often carpooled into work and it was Athos’ week to do the driving. Athos shook his head. “I haven’t seen it all day, but I don’t go out of my way to look for your badge. We don’t have time for this, let’s go, you can find your badge later.”

Porthos nodded and grabbed his house keys from his desk before following Athos out the door.

“Did I drive yesterday? Maybe I left my badge in my car, I’ll check when we get there.”

“You going to be ok, partner?” Athos asked Porthos as they walked to his vehicle. This was the last thing his friend needed to be worrying about and he was concerned for him.

Porthos paused a moment, running his hands through his hair. “It’s just a bit overwhelming. I feel like I’m holding all the pieces of my life in my hands, struggling not to drop the most important one and ultimately failing.”

“I understand that feeling, more than you know,” Athos sympathized. He needed a way to distract Porthos from the situation at hand. “Did I ever tell you about my high school girlfriend Anne and our son Raoul?”

“No you didn’t-- Wait. What? You have a son?”

Athos grinned as Porthos’ attention was diverted for at least as long as it would take to tell him the story he’d told Aramis a few years ago.

 

**March 17, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ townhouse - Athos and Porthos**

 

The fire was out and only three buildings were destroyed, the victim's house and the townhouses on either side. Athos and Porthos were standing over the now covered body of the man across the street. He’d been killed in the same manner all their other victims were, a neat cut to the neck from one side to the other. Victor, it seemed, had no problem killing this guy as compared to Lemay. He guessed this man was caught off guard, unlike Lemay who probably knew he was set to die.

“I never did find out his name…” Porthos said, his voice trailing off as he stared out at the damage. “I caught Aramis spying on him when he moved in a couple of years ago. He would give me updates on the hot guy across the street, but we never made any attempt to be his friend.”

Athos peeked under the sheet, eyes widening. “He looks remarkably like you, partner.”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny,” Porthos responded. “Do you think Victor and Isabelle were trying to send me a message or do you think they made a mistake and thought this was actually me?”

Athos frowned and dropped the sheet back over the dead man’s face. “I think it’s a message for Aramis and a mistake on Isabelle and Victor’s part. I think they thought this was you and killed him to hurt Aramis.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, my friend, it’s not,” Athos replied. “Did you have a chance to check your vehicle for your badge?”

“Yeah, quickly. Funny thing is the holder and my ID were in there, but the badge is missing. I’m pretty sure someone broke into it and took it. I guess it just adds to the proof that Victor and Isabelle thought our neighbour was me. They are really messing with Aramis’ mind, we need to find him Athos before the damage is unfixable.”

Athos nodded began walking towards his vehicle knowing Porthos would follow him. He was going over this whole case in his head and kept coming to the same conclusion, they had to go back to Savoy and they shouldn’t have left in the first place.

“I still think that he’s in Savoy and it’s past time we go back and set up our base there,” Athos said to Porthos once they were settled in the car.

“Thank God, Athos. After this murder today I was considering leaving you here and going myself.” Porthos unbuckled the belt he’d just done up and opened the door. “I’ll go pack a bag, wait here I will be right back. We’ll need to get the captain and the whelp along the way, they won’t forgive us if we leave them out of this.”

He got out of the car and ran towards his and Aramis’ home to gather what he would need for the next bit. He hadn’t told Athos yet, though knowing his partner the man already knew, but Porthos wouldn’t be coming home until they found Aramis.

 

**March 17, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Porthos**

 

This was stupid, thought Porthos. His boyfriend gets abducted a week and a half ago and they’d been busting their asses trying to find him with literally nothing to show for it. Sure they discovered a ton of stuff on Aramis, who he was and who had him, but nothing to show where he may be. The closest they’d come was Lemay who claimed that he’d only travelled about half an hour from his clinic when Victor brought him to Aramis. But 30 minutes in any direction was a huge area to cover and they’d been unsuccessful in finding him.

Porthos was so sure that Aramis was at the Savoy Church when he and Athos visited a couple of weeks ago, but there was nothing. There was no trace of him in Savoy. The media still believed Lemay was dead, a fact that wasn’t going to change until Isabelle and Victor were behind bars and Aramis safe at home. The one person that might have been able to offer more insight to the situation was refusing to cooperate. Ninon went dark after d’Artagnan spoke to her last. She wasn’t answering her phone, her children were pulled out of school and the house had been closed and boarded up. Where she was now was anyone’s guess.

All in all, they’d wasted an entire week learning absolutely nothing and making no progress in the case. Any leads led them to dead ends and any tips by well-meaning citizens turned out to be a waste of time. Running on little sleep, Treville, Athos, d’Artagnan and himself were ready to throttle each other. Tempers were running high to the point that most of the precinct was beginning to give them a wide berth when any of them walked into the room.

One thing Porthos knew for sure, was that this couldn’t continue. They were rapidly reaching Good Friday, the day that they figured was when Victor and Isabelle were going to kill Aramis.  At least now they were headed back to Savoy and taking some sort of action. He couldn’t be more relieved at being able to do something other than sitting down and hiding his rage, because Porthos was angry, devastated, betrayed and sad. He was all those feelings all at once and it wasn’t going to take much for him to just lose it. He had to keep reminding himself that whatever his issues were, Aramis was in a far worse mental and physical state than he was. He was torn between wanting to never speak to him again and taking him in his arms and never letting him go.

Porthos went into his closet and stood on tiptoes to reach the top where he and Aramis kept their suitcases. He paused for a moment as his fingers brushed Aramis’ go bag, wondering if it was worth it to pack some things for his boyfriend as well. He quickly reasoned that once they found him, Aramis would appreciate some clothing of his own. He pulled both bags down and began stuffing them with random items of clothing. Since Lemay said that Aramis had his leg broken, Porthos put mostly comfortable clothing into his bag.

As he was zipping up both bags he remembered the scrapbook that Aramis would obsess over every year. Porthos went back to the closet and pulled the book off the shelves where he’d hidden it under a bunch of old sweaters. He held the leather bound book in his hand, tracing the well-worn marks in its cover from Aramis’ obsessive handling. He opened the book to its first few pages and flipped through them slowly. Porthos was actually surprised at how much information those few pages contained. Newspaper clippings and wedding photos were just some of the few things on the pages that Porthos paused to look at.  

This could prove helpful, thought Porthos as he shoved the scrapbook into his own bag and not Aramis’. He could read through it while they were driving to Savoy. There was a huge part of him that regretted forgetting about the scrapbook and he wondered if him reading it earlier on would have helped them find Aramis already. Packing done, he ran down the stairs to Athos who was still waiting in his vehicle.

 

**March 17, 2016 - D’Artagnan’s house - D’Artagnan**

 

D’Artagnan knew was he was going to do the second he woke up that morning. He threw off the covers and raced to the bathroom to deal with his daily routine. While he was washing he let his mind wander and go over his plan for the day.

He would need to pack a small bag, call the hospital for some time off and text Porthos and Athos, but only once he was on his way because he didn’t want them to convince him he was on a fool’s errand. After nearly two weeks of his best friend being missing, likely treated horribly at the hands of Victor and Isabelle, d’Artagnan no longer had any interest in researching. He was done sitting around doing nothing. Not that he thought Athos and Porthos were doing nothing and sitting around, but he wanted to be out on the streets asking people if they’d seen anything. He wanted to explore the buildings around the area and if he had to do it without permission, then so be it. But he was absolutely done with being in Paris.

He wasn’t surprised as he was locking his house up tight when he heard the squeal of tires behind him. He spun around to see Athos pulling up in a large, borrowed SUV. The windows were down, despite the chilly weather, and Treville was hanging out the window waving d’Artagnan over.

“Going somewhere kid?” Treville asked once he'd walked down his sidewalk.

D’Artagnan hefted his backpack over his shoulder and stood a little taller. “Yes, I am going to find Aramis.”

All three men in the SUV watched d’Artagnan for a long moment until he began to fidget under the scrutiny.

“And you were going to go off on your own and be a vigilante?” Athos drawled.

D’Artagnan stammered, “I-- I just thought… I just want to find him.”

“Then get in and hope you packed enough for a while, we are going to find him if it’s the last thing we do.” Treville smiled.


	19. March 25, 2016 - Savoy - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan and Treville

**March 25, 2016 - Savoy - Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan and Treville**

 

And so the week in Savoy passed by. D’Artagnan and Porthos spent a great part of the week mapping out a thirty-minute radius around Lemay’s clinic. Once they’d figured out that, they spent time analysing the buildings in the area, trying to determine where Aramis could be. Unsurprisingly, Savoy church was well within the circle the two had created. They'd gone over potential buildings within the area that Aramis might be, but in the end, all roads kept leading to Savoy Catholic Church. It would be the most likely place for Aramis to be. Even though the building wasn't the original structure, the area around held a great deal of history for their friend. Problem was that Athos and Porthos had scoured the area a week or so ago and found no trace of Aramis.

D’Artagnan, Porthos, and several of Serge’s people were searching properties in the area. They were relying on the kindness of the business owners and residents that lived in the area to allow them to search the buildings. They’d only come across a few people who refused to have their buildings searched. None of the people refusing seemed suspicious, though, and their buildings were low on the 'possibility of Aramis being there' list. Despite those few setbacks, they were reducing the number of buildings left unchecked.

Meanwhile, he and Treville were following up on a couple of other things they’d thought of. While they could use d’Artagnan’s skills in researching, the kid was adamant that he was done sitting around doing nothing. As the other two were out searching Savoy church for the fourth or fifth time, Treville was trying to get some information from some stubborn people.

Athos was still curious about what was in the sealed file. He was contemplating what sort of information it could contain when Treville made a surprising discovery. The life insurance policies for the entire Bessette family had been paid out to Ninon de Larroque, which in itself wasn't surprising considering the woman survived the fire. As well, it was her side of the family that died, so it was only fair that she collect the money. The money wasn’t paid out to Ninon until late 2009 which didn't surprise Athos over how long it took. The insurance companies would need to wait for the results of the investigations to prove whether it was an act of fraud or not. The shocking part was the d'Herblay's life insurance policies being out to Aramis de Vannes. One would think that the fact that they weren't paid out to someone from the family would be the first warning bell. Not that Aramis wasn't part of the family, but by all accounts Rene d'Herblay was dead.

How Aramis managed to get all the money from the family under a false name, Athos couldn't figure out. But, he supposed, Rene had Ninon who was a lawyer and a Judge who was sympathetic to their plight. Athos made a mental note to check to see if there would be any repercussions in what those three had done. He doubted that there was any real need to look into it, but he wanted to be extra careful.

Their next problem was where the money was and this was where they were at a dead end. Athos sat back on the bed, sighing and leaning against the headboard. He knew the money was transferred to Aramis, but it moved again to a private account and vanished shortly after. What had Aramis done with the money? Why would he dispose of it? Did he give it to someone? It was just another question to ask Aramis about when they found him.

“Do you think we are crossing a line by searching into Aramis’ past without his knowledge?” Athos asked  his captain finally. Treville was sitting at the small desk in the room, hunched over reading the case file again.

“Probably,” Treville responded. 

Of course, that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, even knowing it was true. He knew they'd stepped over the line between searching Aramis' past for clues to his whereabouts. They'd ended up crossing the line into trying to fill in holes that maybe Aramis didn’t want to be known. Problem was, though, Athos couldn't stop himself. There was a pull from somewhere to find out everything he could about his friend and he was beyond stopping.

“If it makes you feel better,” Treville continued. “I think that us knowing all this will be the last thing on his mind when we find him. We will have plenty of time to atone for what we are doing.”

Athos grunted his response.

“You and Porthos are beginning to sound like one another,” Treville said.

By the time Porthos and d’Artagnan returned, both Treville and Athos had stopped researching. They’d both declared the insurance policies a dead end and were discussing possible contents of the sealed file. Whatever was in it obviously threatened both Ninon and Aramis, Athos just couldn’t figure out what would be so important to hide. 

“We found nothing at the church, just like all the last times,” d’Artagnan said. The younger man flopped dejected onto the bed and closed his eyes. “Did you guys find anything?”

Porthos growled when both Athos and Treville shook their heads. “Dammit.” He was seriously ready to throw a tantrum and throw things around the room. In fact… he stalked over to his go bag that was sitting so innocently on the desk, picked it up and flung it across the room.

Clothing and various other items flew out of it as it arched across the room, settling with a thud on the ground. It was silent in the room for a moment as Porthos stood, fists clenched and breathing heavily.

“That was unnecessary,” Treville responded. “We all have a vested interest in finding Aramis, and throwing tantrums like a toddler isn’t going to make him magically appear in a cloud of glitter. What did you have in there that was so heavy it thudded?”

When Porthos made no attempt to answer, Treville stood and walked over to the bag and lifted it from the bottom. Everything else that remained, including a large leatherbound book, tumbled to the ground. The book hit the ground with another thud as several items fluttered out from between its pages.

At the sight of the book, Porthos gasped and raced to meet Treville. “Aramis’ scrapbook! I can’t believe I forgot about that again,” he exclaimed.

Treville began picking up the items that were strewn about the room, as Porthos gathered the pages that had fallen from the scrapbook. Once they were done both men joined d’Artagnan and Athos on the bed. Porthos opened the scrapbook in the middle of them and laid out the stuff that had fallen loose.

D’Artagnan quickly saw something and dove for a small rectangle shaped piece of paper. “Hey, this is a business card for Professor David, that teacher I told you about from University. I wonder why Aramis has this?” He turned the card over to see a barely legible message. “If you ever need to talk, call me. You don’t think the professor knew about what happened?”

“From what we’ve figured out so far, I don’t think anyone else knew the truth behind what happened. I mean he wouldn’t even tell us, why would he speak to a teacher?” Athos responded. He picked up the thin bundle of papers and flipped through them. He barely managed to not squeal in delight at discovering a summary of the insurance policies and where they went. The last page was information on a transfer of all the d’Herblay family’s funds to Ninon de Larroque. “Why would Aramis give all this money to Ninon?”

Treville was flipping through the book as the other two examined their objects. There was a lot of information in this book, but nothing they hadn’t already learned. Still, it would have come in handy if they’d known about this book weeks ago. There were a few small gaps and holes that were being filled as he flipped through, little things that at the end of the day were of no consequence other than insight into the kind of hell Aramis had been through all these years.

Everyone was so busy examining the book they failed to notice that Porthos had moved from the bed to the floor. He was hunched over a pile of pictures and two large blue sheets of paper. Porthos was looking at a series of photographs from Rene and Adele’s wedding. There were so many photos, a lot of the posed shots typical of weddings and even more candid pictures. Rene laughing in the background as Adele posed. Rene and Marsac, arms slung over each other shoulders grinning like idiots. One picture after another of Rene with his parents and grandparents, him dancing with his mother, cutting the cake and saying their vows. It was really the perfect day, the kind of day Porthos had wanted to give Aramis when they got married.

When he got to the bottom of the pile of loose pictures there was a thin envelope with Aramis’ messy handwriting on it.

Renee Adele

Puzzled Porthos pulled the flap open and pulled out several photographs. There were pictures of a baby, a toddler and a school aged girl all with fiery red hair and chocolate brown coloured eyes. Why would Aramis have pictures of his dead wife when she was a baby? He looked back into the envelope and saw a small folded piece of paper. It was a letter addressed to Rene d’Herblay and signed by Ninon. There were tear marks smudging up some of the ink, but the letter was still completely readable.

_ My dear Rene, _

_ Renee said Mama to me for the first time today, and I nearly had to leave the room in tears so that I wouldn’t frighten her. _

_ She is growing so fast, developing more of a personality every day. She reminds me so much of Adele, with smatterings of you in her. _

_ This little miracle has given me a reason to live after that night in Savoy. I will forever count my blessings that you entrusted her to me. There is nothing I can do to ever repay you for this. _

_ Know that you will always be welcome in our lives. Please find yourself something to live for, and if you can’t, think of your daughter. _

_ With all our love, _

_ Ninon and Renee _

Porthos couldn’t breathe. Aramis had a daughter… but… what? How? It took a full minute before Porthos could begin to form thoughts again and they came unbidden. This was what was in the sealed file, this was why Aramis kept everything a secret. How he and Ninon managed to lose everyone but this baby was a mystery. He realized that if Aramis went to so much trouble to hide this child, then hidden she should remain. At least until they found Aramis and then he could reveal as much or as little as he wanted. He folded the letter, put it and the pictures back into the envelope and glanced to see if anyone was looking before he stuffed the package into his jeans pocket.

“Hey, Porthos?” D’Artagnan called. “Did you find anything interesting over there?”

Porthos cleared his throat a bit, hoping no one had actually seen what he’d just done, and shook his head. “No, just some wedding pictures and some blueprints. I was just about to look at them.”

“Blueprints for what?” Athos asked. Everyone set their items down on the bed and scrambled to where Porthos was laying out the first of two sheets of paper.

“Oh! Hey look, those are blueprints for the old Savoy church,” d’Artagnan exclaimed. He pointed to a large room towards the top of the cross-shaped basement. “That must be the reception room!”

Athos rolled his eyes. “It actually says ‘reception hall’ on it.”

“Oh…”

“These are strange documents, I don’t even think you could call them blueprints actually. They are a cross between a land survey and building blueprints,” Treville said. “I have never seen something like this before.”

While the others were looking at the blueprints, Treville opened up the second sheet of paper revealing the blueprints for the new church. He laid them over the top the of the other sheet of paper. “Here look at this, what a difference in the placement of the rooms in the new church compared to the old.”

“Yeah, there are a few more exits than with the old church. I'm assuming because of the fire they made it safer to get in and out of,” d’Artagnan commented as he traced each of the entrances.

“Well not that I have any proof,” Athos began. “But I still believe that Aramis was the mysterious donor that funded the rebuilding of the church. I am also pretty sure he had a large part in the placement of emergency exits as well as the fact that there is no basement. He’d do whatever he could to prevent history from repeating itself.”

During the whole exchange, Porthos wasn't listening. Something was wrong with these blueprints and he couldn’t quite put his thumb on it. It was almost as if they weren’t lining up correctly. Ignoring d’Artagnan’s yelp of indignation, he tore the blueprints from him and walked to the large window and held them up to the light.

“What’s going on partner?” Athos asked as he came up to stand beside him.

“It’s not right, pass me some tape.”

Treville brought some tape to Porthos and helped him hang the old blueprints on the window first, which cast a blue glow through the room. Then Athos handed him the new blueprints and Porthos matched up the land lines with both sheets of paper.

Once he'd finished hanging the blueprints, they all stepped back to survey from a better vantage point and stared at them in shock. The new church was built just off to the side of the old church. What was now a parking lot, covered the area where the old church used to be, covering the cross-shaped basement. Because the old church was built a long time ago, there were old tunnel lines leading out from the two sides of the cross. They would've been escape tunnels a long time ago and were probably barred from use in the more recent decades. But that didn’t mean that they were still barred or blocked…

“I know where Aramis is,” Porthos said.


	20. March 25, 2016 - Old Savoy Church Basement - Aramis

**March 25, 2016 - Old Savoy Church Basement - Aramis**

 

“Good morning Rene,” Isabelle sang, pulling Aramis from his haze of sleep if that is what you’d call what he’d spent the last week doing. He hadn’t voluntarily moved from his cot since his leg was broken. If it wasn’t for the guards forcing him to stand and take care of his basic needs, he’d doubt it if he even noticed if he was awake or not.

“Isabelle,” Aramis rasped. His voice unused to speaking after a week alone in his cell.

“You haven’t been eating,” she said as she entered his cell.

It was true, there was a pile of plates beside the bed, food piled on them and on the floor around them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something more than a nibble here or there. His clothing was loose on his frame and his limbs shook with weakness.

“Does it matter?” He responded.

He’d lost Adele, his family and now Porthos, there wasn’t much left to live for. He remembered his vow so long ago about living for his daughter, but it was easier said than done. He’d never spoken to Renee and communicated only through phone calls from Ninon. He would get random pictures and each year a school picture of his daughter. It had been enough for those first few months after Adele died knowing that Ninon was taking care of the baby. But even that wore off and he found himself alone. If Aramis was to die now, Renee wouldn’t know any different.

D’Artagnan was the turning point in his life. Finding someone who didn’t care what sort of past he had and was only interested in being his friend was tantamount to his recovery. For a while, even Professor David was a huge help. While he’d never told the professor what actually happened, it helped to have a sympathetic ear to talk to about the trauma of the fire. The chance meeting between him, d’Artagnan, Athos and Porthos set the course for the following five years. Aramis finally found another reason to live and a reason to be happy and thankful he lived.

He should’ve known better.

“Yes silly,” she said as she began puttering around the cell cleaning up the bits and pieces of food. “Eating is important.”

Aramis nodded as if he cared and tuned her out as he settled back down on the cot. She could clean all she wanted, he didn’t care. He allowed his mind to wander to Athos, d’Artagnan and Treville. How were they coping with the loss of Porthos? He hoped they stopped looking for him, Porthos’ life wasn’t worth his own.

“I don’t understand why you won’t look at me,” Isabelle said with a tinge of frustration lacing her words. “It’s not like I did the actual killing. I don’t know why you’d be angry with me.”

Lost in his thoughts, Aramis didn’t notice that she’d taken hold of his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. Again, that defiant side of him, regardless of whether he was ready to give up wouldn’t allow him to obey her. He focussed his eyes just past her, refusing to meet her gaze. Growling in a rage she let go of his chin and smacked him across the face so hard his head snapped to the side. It was enough to shake off the haze and brought him sharply back to the present. Aramis touched the side of his face gingerly, wincing at the sting. He imagined there was a nice red welt rising on his face thanks to Isabelle’s smack.

“Look at me.”

As defiant as he was being, Aramis didn’t want to get hit again; He’d had enough of being smacked around and being broken into pieces. He manoeuvred into more of an upright position and looked at Isabelle for the first time she’d announced Porthos’ death. She was standing over him, wearing a long white vintage wedding gown that looked identical to the one that Adele wore on her wedding day. Her hair was piled on her head in delicate ringlets and pinned into place with several sparkly blue crystals.

“What?” He asked, not understanding what was going on. “Why are you wearing a wedding dress?”

In ordinary circumstances some would call her breathtaking, instead to Aramis she was frightening. Looking closer he could see that Her skin was pale and sallow and the ringlets of her hair looked stiff and brittle. He looked up into her eyes and could see the madness swirling about. She was nervous and angry and unsure of what she was doing.

She gasped as if she was honestly taken aback by his question as if she had no clue why he would even ask something like that.

“You… don’t like it? I tried to make it look like hers. I--I failed in this?”

“What?” Aramis said again, still not comprehending what was going on. Her mood had gone from joyous to angry, to utter devastation in a matter of moments and he was struggling to catch up.

“I-- couldn’t find daffodils,” she continued in a shaky, unsure voice. She lifted a large bouquet of bluebells from off the cot and began fiddling with the delicate flowers. “For--forgive me?”

Aramis frowned, “Why do you need daffodils?”

One by one blue petal floated to the floor as Isabelle began plucking them from the stems. “I wanted to give you one last chance to choose me.”

He should have seen all this coming. This jealous woman had taken the final step in her bid for insanity, intending to marry him and then kill him.

“For once and for all Isabelle,”Aramis began, gritting his teeth. “I despise you more than anything in this world, I would never choose you, not in this lifetime or any other lifetime.”

Enraged, Isabelle screamed and lunged for Aramis. Still chained to the wall and hobbled by his broken leg, Aramis couldn’t go anywhere. She batted him with her bouquet and shouted at him as he struggled to shove her off of him and protect his face from her wrath.

“Isabelle,” Victor asked as he walked into the room. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Victor, she isn’t ok!” Aramis said.

Victor’s arrival hadn’t done a thing to settle Isabelle’s enraged ramblings and she continued her assault on him. There was a certain irony, he knew, in being glad for Victor’s appearance. In normal circumstances, he would abhor the idea he was even hoping the man would help him, but this wasn’t normal.

“Is… did you take your medicine this morning?” Victor asked. He ran into the cell, took Isabelle by the waist lifting her completely up and off Aramis. She tossed her bouquet at Aramis with one last growl before Victor spun her around to face him, putting himself between Aramis and Isabelle. Aramis barely managed to move to the side as the bouquet grazed the side of his head before coming to rest on the pillow behind him. Though at this point the bouquet couldn’t really be called that anymore. In Isabelle’s rage most of the petals had fallen off and the bundle was loose in its ribbon.

Aramis swung his legs off the cot and attempted to stand. He intended to put a little distance between the crazy lady in a wedding dress and himself. Victor was trying frantically to calm a hysterical Isabelle, holding her and speaking to her in a soothing voice. Attempting to stand was a feat all it’s own, the room swayed as the blood rushed from his head blanking his vision for a moment as he righted himself.

He opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them and saw Victor staring nervously at Isabelle. She’d broken free from his grasp and stood between the two men. She was shaking, glancing between both Aramis and Victor, unsure of who posed more of a threat.

“Now Isabelle,” Victor began. Aramis noted that he was using the most gentle voice to speak to Isabelle, but his face was pinched and angry. He was sure that when Victor walked down here to enact his revenge, he wasn’t expecting to see his wife wearing a wedding dress and having a psychotic breakdown.  “Remember our plans for today? You were coming down here to get our guest all prepared for his big day.”

“Oh,” she responded. She visibly deflated as the last of the fight drained out of her.

Victor continued, “Come here, love, and let's get you upstairs to get cleaned up. I will give Rene the sedative and by the time we are done, he will be ready.”

After Isabelle nodded and dried her eyes, Victor strolled forward with a needle in his hand. Aramis could see it was filled with a clear liquid and he knew immediately nothing good was going to come of this.

Aramis struggled against Victor’s hold in vain as the needle was inserted into his neck. The liquid in the needle was cold and he couldn’t stop the shiver that travelled from his neck to his toes. Incidentally, the shiver was the last thing he felt as his toes, then his legs and so on, began to numb. He had one fleeting moment of panic before all sound and light faded, taking him into oblivion.

 

 

**March 25, 2016 - New Savoy Church - Athos, Porthos and Treville**

  
  


“Serge,” Athos spoke through his two-way radio. “Are you and your team ready at the tunnel?”

“We are just about in place, let’s get Aramis rescued.”

“If you see Isabelle or Victor, take them down, but do not kill them and please be careful,” Athos said. He clipped the radio to his belt and adjusted his bulletproof vest. He, Porthos and Treville were at the entrance to one of the two tunnels leading to the basement of the old Savoy church. D’Artagnan, as a civilian, was forced to remain in the vehicle a safe distance away. His partner was antsy and given the circumstances he didn’t blame him. Of all them, Porthos wanted to find Aramis the most.

“We ready?” Treville asked.

Treville was going to lead the charge into the tunnel at the same time Serge and his men would enter the one opposite theirs. The most ironic thing was the entrance to the tunnel was right behind the gravesite memorial of the fire seven years ago. Athos knew Porthos was blaming himself for not checking the area around the gravesite. He questioned his own detective skills, because after visiting several times, how could he have missed it? But, he reasoned, who would’ve thought the basement still existed? There was no sign that anything survived the fire, let alone three people and a basement.

At a nod from everyone, they turned on their flashlights and moved into the tunnel. The blueprints showed the passageway being short in length on this side. Treville had chosen this route because, like his men, he wanted them to be the ones to find Aramis first.

It was silent as they walked in near darkness, each man lost in his own thoughts. What would they find down here? Was everything left intact down here like it was seven years ago? Would they find Aramis still alive? At the end of the tunnel, they reached a door that had a faint glow shining through the gap between it and the floor.

“This feels too easy,” Porthos grumbled. “There’s been no resistance. If Aramis was such a high profile target, don’t you think there would be someone blocking our way?”

Treville shook his head and stared at Porthos. “Nothing about this case has been easy. Though you are correct Porthos, let’s be extra cautious.”

They opened the door as quietly as possible and entered into a hallway. The hallway was lit by candlelight in random wall sconces. The hallway walls were damaged by smoke, the ground and ceiling crumbly but in surprisingly good condition. Either it wasn’t damaged seven years ago, or Isabelle and Victor had spent a lot of time preparing it for their use. Porthos went first, Treville followed and Athos brought up the rear as they opened doors and peered inside. Most of the rooms were caved in, some completely empty of all objects and some left filled with boxes and cobwebs. It was obvious that this section of the basement was left untouched by the fire. Athos made a mental note to let Father Thomas know about all the things left down here so the church could salvage anything they wished.

The farther they walked down the hallway, signs of the destruction of fire and collapse of the church were beginning to show themselves. By the time they rounded the corner into what Athos assumed was the centre of the cross everyone was on edge. Here they were, in the basement of a burned down church where so many people were killed and it was creepy. Very, very quiet and creepy. Athos wasn't’ sure if he believed in ghosts, but Aramis was always telling him to not disturb the dead. It really, really, felt like they were disturbing something.

“This feels like a scene straight from a horror movie. As soon as we open a door something is going to jump out and murder us all,” Athos commented without thought.

“Don’t even go there,” Porthos shivered in response. “I am terrified of those movies.”

Athos sighed, “Porthos I don’t re--” He jumped about a foot higher than Porthos when suddenly their two-way radio crackled.

“Athos, did you make it into the basement?”

It was Serge. Athos pulled the radio off his belt and told the older detective where they were.

“We can’t get in, the tunnel is blocked halfway down. We tried to remove some debris, but it’s wedged in pretty tight and I suspect it isn’t as simple as removing one or two boulders. We’re going to head up to the church and see if Father Thomas knows of any other hidden ways into the basement.”

Athos sighed, he’d be lying if he wasn’t disappointed. They could really use the backup down here in case they were walking into an ambush. “I can see why you can’t get in here, the hallway to the base of the cross and to the left us are completely collapsed. Alright, keep us updated, we haven’t found anything yet.”

Athos clipped the radio to his belt again and shared a glance with Porthos. “Well, you were right earlier when you said this was too easy. Let’s keep moving, the candles lead down this hall.”

They both turned to Treville to regroup, only he wasn’t there.

“Captain?” Porthos shouted. They were met with silence.

“Unless he went back down the way we came, there is only one way he could’ve gone,” Athos said, pointing to the darkened hall ahead of them.

Together Athos and Porthos walked to the end of the hall and came upon a set of large metal doors. They were just barely hanging on their hinges and were flung wide open. Police tape littered the area, fluttering with the disturbance that the two were creating by being down here. It looked like an explosion had gone off down here, the walls were littered with various sized holes and chunks of the ceiling were missing. Large chains that were once connected to one another, hung off the handles of the doors. Everything inside the room was black and charred, nothing recognizable. Athos knew immediately what room this was. The Reception Hall. 

“Is this…” Porthos trailed off. “I don’t know if I want to go in there... I feel like we are disturbing things we shouldn’t.”

Suddenly Treville’s face popped out from beyond the doors startling both Athos and Porthos. “I found something, a small room that would have once been a food prep area. Someone’s been in there recently and there is another locked door in the back. The lock and the door on it are new.”

The two stumbled over each other in their race to get to the back room. Could it really be this easy, Athos thought? Could Aramis be right behind these doors?

Porthos made quick work of the lock, refusing to explain to his captain where he’d learned lockpicking from. They wrenched the door open and slid into the room, guns drawn, only to find it empty.

There was a small cell taking up an entire side of the small room and the area smelled musty, mouldy and stale. It was cold down here, a damp sort of chill that seeped into your bones and left you shivering for days. It was obvious someone had been here recently and had been here for more than a few days. There was food, blue petals, the stems of flowers and various objects strewn about all over the floor. A collar and chain were laying on the floor beside the cot, still bolted to the wall. Athos went to the far side of the cell and picked up a smashed phone, relieved when he swiped the screen and it turned on. A picture of Aramis with Porthos behind him, hugging him was the background. Athos remembered taking that picture last summer. They’d been celebrating something insignificant enough that he couldn’t remember what. But Aramis loved the picture so much he hadn't removed it from his screen since.

“I have Aramis’ cell phone," Athos said before placing it into a plastic bag and pocketing it.

“There’s a basket under this bed,” said Treville as he pulled a small brown picnic basket out. He opened it and coughed at the smell wafting out. “There’s a bunch of mouldy food in here. And… scrubs?”

Porthos walked over to Treville and took the clothes out of his hand. “Aramis was wearing these the day he went missing. Remember the fluffy bunny scrubs?”

"I guess this pretty much confirms that Aramis was being held captive here, but where is he now?" Athos asked.

“There’s a stack of pictures in here as well,” Treville said as he pulled them from the basket. He flipped through them before handing them to Athos. “They are all pictures of us at the precinct. This one is from your office Porthos, how did they get this picture? We don't usually allow the public into the detective offices.”

The picture was taken the first night Aramis went missing. In the picture Porthos was sitting at his desk, holding Aramis’ cross necklace. Porthos was puzzled. The only person that had come into the room was Officer Charbonneau, dropping off bagels for them. “Do you think Charbonneau is working for Victor?” He asked.

“The kid only started three or four months ago," Treville said. "It's way too convenient that he shows up at the exact time our murders started. I bet he was the person who took every one of these pictures. The lengths Victor and Isabelle went to get Aramis where they wanted him are astounding." He pulled out his cell phone and walked out of the room to call their office to notify someone of Charbonneau.

“Victor and Isabelle have been torturing Aramis with all these images the entire time he’s been here,” Athos said. He set the bundle of pictures down on the cot and looked around the whole room. “What do you think was going through his mind when they brought these pictures to him?”

Porthos shook his head, he was still holding Aramis’ scrubs as though they were a lifeline between himself and his soulmate.

“I don’t understand, Athos, where is he? I was so sure that he would be down here.”

Athos sighed, so had he. He walked over to Porthos and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Well, he was here and it feels like it was recent. The flowers all over the floor are still fresh and some of the food hasn’t even gone stale."

“We won’t stop looking?” Porthos asked.

“Never.”

Porthos nodded and set the scrubs down on the cot beside the stack of pictures. He surveyed the place Aramis had been living in for the past few weeks and frowned. Even though his boyfriend lied to him, no one deserved the shit he’d been through, not in the past and not at present. He'd been chained, held against his will and hurt both physically and emotionally. Aramis was going to need so much support after this. At least this time Aramis would have friends still alive and prepared to help him.

“Let’s call Serge and see if he found anything at the church,” Athos suggested.

Porthos knew his friend was trying to distract him from the dismal situation they were in. He sighed and began walking around the cell looking for more evidence that Aramis had been here. He’d only moved about a foot or two when the light cast by the lamplight flickered against a small metal object on the ground.

Moving closer he bent down to pick it up. It was his badge, covered in flecks of blood and lying beside it was a picture of their now dead neighbour. Athos was right at the townhouse last week, Isabelle and Victor had made it look like Porthos was dead. In Aramis’ situation, it wasn’t hard to believe that they’d convinced him his boyfriend was dead just with these two objects alone. Aramis wouldn’t be thinking about the neighbour that looked like his boyfriend, that would be the last thing on his mind. Porthos always had his badge on him and so coupled with the picture of his doppelganger, it painted a devastating picture.

“Athos, I found--” Porthos began, only to be interrupted by his partner shouting and calling for Treville.

“Guys, we have to get to the church now. Victor was seen dousing it in gasoline and then entering the building.”

“Aramis?” Porthos asked.

“Serge can’t see him from where they are, but I bet he’s in there.”

“Victor’s going to burn the church down with Aramis inside, finishing off what he started seven years ago, isn’t he?” Porthos asked.

Porthos pocketed his badge and followed Athos and Treville as they ran full speed towards the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the one you have all been waiting for :)


	21. March 25, 2016 - New Savoy Church - Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever thanked Tazzyjan in the entire time I've been posting this. I have a few other people that get to pre-read and offer advice, but they enjoy reading it once the chapter/scene is done. She is literally forced to read each chapter a million times as I write it and tells me when I need to add more or take away stuff. So thanks, hun :) FF wouldn't be much without you and would've ended far sooner without your advice.
> 
> Here's the chapter everyone has been waiting for... Finding Aramis has a price, though. Hopefully, it isn't too high a price to pay.

**March 25, 2016 - New Savoy Church - Everyone**

_ Aramis: _

Waking up after being sedated was anything but pleasant. Aramis had experienced surgeries before, but waking up after those were different. The biggest difference was after the other surgeries a nice pretty nurse usually was waking you up and a loved one was hovering just around the corner. That wasn’t the case this time, no, this time he woke with a woman in a wedding dress straddling his abdomen and holding a syringe full of a pink liquid.

His head fell to the side listlessly, the sedative Victor gave him earlier still coursing through his veins making his muscles lethargic. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to tell him that he was in the Savoy Catholic Church and bound tightly to the large altar. He hadn’t been in this church before, never even laying eyes on the blueprints, but he’d recognize it in a heartbeat. Tapestries recreated from the old church hung on the walls and in the back he could see a memory wall with pictures of the victims. But it  _ really _ was just a general feeling that he  _ knew _ this place.

A tapping on his forehead forced him to turn his head to focus back on the women sitting on top of him. Isabelle’s ‘crazy’ looked to have improved outwardly, but Aramis still knew the madness was swirling within her. Her hair was recomposed once more into their perfect ringlets, her dress smoothed of its wrinkles and her makeup reapplied. She didn't have a bouquet of bluebells this time, Aramis noted, she'd destroyed the last one hitting him with it.

“Rene,” Isabelle sang, trying one last time to convince him. “It’s not too late, I can stop this. Just admit that you love me and I will give you everything you ever desire.”

“No... Please don’t do this…” He begged. He twisted his wrists hoping that by some small miracle there was give to the ropes so he could slip his hands out. Of course, there was none and the ropes stayed just as snug as they were when Victor or Isabelle bound him in the first place.

"What a waste." Isabelle’s eyes went icy in rage and she shook her head, bending to whisper in Aramis’ ear. “Eyes! Look your last!”

Aramis struggled then, trying in vain to push Isabelle off of him, but with his arms and legs firmly tied down, he couldn’t move more than a small amount. She was quoting Romeo and Juliet and he knew without a doubt that the liquid in the vial was poison.

“No!” He shouted.

Her arms slid underneath his body and she hugged him. “Arms, take your last embrace.”

“Isabelle, please.”

Her lips brushed his cheek. “And, lips, O you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss.”

She jabbed the syringe into his neck and Aramis howled in pain as the poison was plunged into his body.

It was as if time stopped in this moment as they waited for something to happen. Aramis could swear he heard both his and Isabelle’s hearts beating clear as day because it was so quiet in the church. Isabelle's anticipation was crushing him.

“Why isn’t it working?” She yelled as she let go of Aramis and sat up. “VICTOR!”

“Yes, love?”

Isabelle visibly jumped, startled by her husband's appearance behind her. He brought with him a strong smell of gasoline and Aramis couldn’t make his brain work fast enough to supply him with an answer. “V--Victor, nothing is happening, you promised me he’d die in my arms.”

“Hmm, I may have misjudged the dosage. He’ll just die a bit slower, no need to panic dear.” He said as if poisoning someone was the most normal thing in the world.

There was some truth to Victor’s words, though, Aramis could feel his neck beginning to sting where the poison was injected. The discomfort radiated outwards, travelling down his limbs and made his stomach cramp and his muscles tighten. He couldn’t hold back the pained whimper as he took a shaky breath and felt searing pain race across his chest.

Aramis watched as Victor’s arms snaked around his wife, his face close to her ear as he whispered loud enough for Aramis to hear. “Look at him, my love, writhing in pain. The panic on his face, knowing he’s going to die this time.”

“He does whimper beautifully.” She said.

Aramis wished he wasn’t bound so tight, it felt like all his limbs were on fire, alternating between an icy cold burn and a boiling hot searing pain. It was taking everything in him to stop from crying out as the pain increased exponentially.

“Are you cold, Rene?” Victor laughed into Isabelle’s hair when Aramis’ body began shaking. “Do you feel the icy tendrils of pain snaking down your arms and legs, taking hold of your lungs, making it hard to breathe? Do you feel it nearing your heart, corrupting every cell in your body and jabbing at your brain?”

_ Good God everything hurt so badly _ . He just wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but he wasn’t going to let Victor think he was going to die without a fight. “Fuck. You.” He managed to say between clenched teeth.

“Such language, didn’t your Mama ever tell you if you had nothing nice to say, say nothing at all?” Victor laughed. “Oh, oops… my bad. Your Mama’s dead.”

Anger grew in Aramis’ chest, making it’s way out in an enraged roar. Victor's eyes widened, not having expected such emotion from him. Even Isabelle shimmied backwards seeking protection from her husband against the all-consuming rage Aramis was projecting.

“At le--least I h--had a mother who loved me e--enough to teach m--me the difference between right and wrong. I bet yours couldn’t b-bear the thought that she had a waste of a son in you,” He spat.

“I never knew her,” Victor whispered. Aramis watched, shocked at the change in his demeanour as he pulled Isabelle in gently, stroking her neck. “She died in a fire when I was a child.”

“Oh… Victor,” Isabelle said softly. “You never told me any of this.”

“Taught me a valuable life lesson,” He continued. He pressed his thumb a little harder into Isabelle’s neck eliciting a tiny yelp from her. “You don’t need women in your lives fucking things up.”

“Victor?” Isabelle asked as she tried to pull out of her husband’s increasingly painful grasp. “Let go, please.”

“Shhhh Izzie, stop trying to pull away, you are exactly where you should be,” Victor soothed.

Both Isabelle and Aramis gasped as Victor brought a long-handled blade to her neck, resting the sharp edge just below the opposite ear of the hand that was holding the knife.

“Why?” She asked in a strangled voice. Her eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears as she stared down at Aramis.

“Because, Isabelle, you never loved me more than him. If he chose right now to be with you, you'd leave me and I won't play second fiddle anymore. You can die knowing your beloved turned you down and your husband thinks nothing of you.”

“No…” She whispered, never breaking her gaze from Aramis.

Victor looked down at Aramis then and smiled. “I told you the night I broke your leg that I was going to kill her. I’m surprised you didn’t warn her.”

He never gave him the chance to respond as he moved the knife and sliced through Isabelle’s skin like it was softened butter. Immediately her hands flew to her neck trying to stop the sudden flow of blood. She gasped, trying to draw in a breath and only succeeded in making a wet gurgling sound. Victor must have cut her deep if she couldn’t even breathe.

Aramis’ heart was beating madly and he couldn’t figure out if it was because of what Victor had just done or if it was the poison. He watched, unable to do anything as Isabelle’s eyes lost their life. Her hands fell from her neck as she slid down, her head smashing into Aramis’ chest. He could feel her blood seeping into the material of his thin clothing and trickling down his side.

_ What just happened? _

Victor laughed, “Good riddance Isabelle and may you burn in hell.” He turned to walk out of the church, stopping near the door. “Oh and Rene, join her, why don’t you?”

 

_ Athos: _

They’d reached the back of the church in record time having run faster than any of them had ever run before. During the run, Athos had been planning how to advance on the church so that they could capture Victor with little effort. Also, if Aramis was inside, Athos didn't want Victor knowing they were coming and speed up his plans to kill him. Serge and his men had the front of the church taken care of and he’d already decided that Porthos would be the one to go inside. Athos didn’t relish the idea of Porthos going into the church alone but knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the man. His partner wanted to find Aramis more than anyone else and was confident that he was in the building. Treville and himself were going to each take a side and meet at the front providing they met no resistance.

Emotions were running high between the three of them, each frantic to find Aramis and take down Victor once and for all. They’d been several steps behind the two serial killers for so many months and Athos could literally taste the possibility of victory. That being said, if this wasn’t handled with care the two could slip through their hands again and Aramis would be lost to them.

“Be safe you two, keep the radios on and answer if we call each other. Do I need to make it an order?” Treville asked.

“No, Sir,” Porthos responded. Athos just nodded. They all checked that their bulletproof vests were on properly. Then pulling out their guns Athos and Treville moved into position while Porthos entered the church quietly.

“Alright, let’s go,” Athos whispered.

 

_ Porthos: _

It was quiet in the church when he entered. As much as he wanted to race in guns blazing, he needed the tactical advantage that stealth provided. He knew Victor was out in the front of the church, but he had no clue who was back in here. He didn’t want to risk alerting anyone and possibly getting Aramis hurt more than he already was. Pulling his gun from his holster Porthos went down the hallway towards the Sacristy. Finding nothing among the priest's vestments and holy objects stored in the room, Porthos had a fleeting thought of Father Thomas. He hadn’t seen the priest recently and hoped that he was ok.

A quick glance into a few other rooms elicited nothing but a few dead people, which explained the lack of guards around the area. Either Victor and Isabelle were stupid, or they were just that confident that their plan was going to go as planned.

Knowing that there probably weren’t any more guards to stop him, Porthos threw caution to the wind and ran for the chapel part of the church. The scene he was met with when he walked into the nave nearly caused him to have a heart attack. Aramis was unmoving and Isabelle was sprawled out on top of him. The pulpit which was metres away suddenly felt like it was miles and miles away. As he walked to the altar it felt like he was running through deep water, each step agonisingly slow.

Isabelle was dead, Porthos saw, as he reached the altar. Removing her off of Aramis was a difficult task and It took everything in him not to panic when Aramis didn’t even so much as twitch. He placed her body on the floor in front of the altar and looked back to him. He was covered in what he hoped was only Isabelle’s blood.

Porthos ran his hands through Aramis’ sweat-soaked curls before pressing his fingers to the side of his neck and waiting for a heartbeat. He’d barely touched the skin before he felt it, Aramis’ heart was beating so fast that Porthos couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t awake.

“Aramis, love, you there? Can you open your eyes for me?” Porthos asked softly. Aramis’ eyes opened just a sliver, but it was enough to set Porthos heart aflutter in relief. The sight of his boyfriend bound hand and foot to the altar, barely conscious but alive, cracked his resolve. He couldn’t be angry with him anymore, he was just so grateful to have found him.

“Porthos?” Aramis gasped.

“It’s me, Aramis, you’re safe now. Let me get these knots undone,” Porthos said.

“You’re dead.” When he’d closed his eyes moments ago he’d honestly thought it was going to be for the last time. He never thought he'd feel a warm touch again, so when someone caressed the side of his cheek after weeks of loneliness, tears prickled in his eyes.

“No, they lied to you.”

“I saw the badge and the blood… and the picture,” Aramis shuddered. “I’ve lost everything…” The idea that his Porthos was still alive wasn’t something he could come to terms with so quickly.

“No!” Porthos cried as he got to work undoing the ropes holding his boyfriend captive. “Not everything, let me get you out of here and then we can have a long talk, I promise I am not dead.”

He started with the rope wrapped around the walking cast on Aramis’ leg making quick work of that followed by the other leg. Porthos let the ropes fall away, moving to one of his hands to begin working on that knot. The wrist encased in the ropes was peppered in faint yellow bruises. Porthos rubbed his wrist gently once he removed the bindings and wondered how he had hurt it.

“I’m tired,” Aramis mumbled as his head fell to the side. "I don’t want to feel anything anymore…”

“I know baby, I know… you’ve been through so much. Hold on, I just have the one hand left.”

Porthos fumbled with the last knot, this one was tighter than the rest. Aramis must have been struggling and pulling on this one more than the others. When the last knot finally fell away, Porthos heaved a sigh of relief as Aramis curled into himself. The relief was short lived as he realized that Aramis was whimpering and shaking violently.

“Aramis?” He asked.

“Hurts… poison…”

Porthos stood up quickly, swaying slightly at the blood rush of standing too fast. “What?” He asked.

He followed Aramis’ sight line to Isabelle’s body on the floor where he’d placed her earlier. In her outstretched hand was an empty syringe.

“Oh God, no no no,” Porthos cried. How did he not notice? Aramis’ skin was so cold and yet sweat rolled off his forehead. His breathing was rapid and strained as if they couldn’t keep up with the frantic beating of his heart. Even though the man was curled into himself, Porthos could see how strained his muscles were. If Aramis didn’t get help immediately he wasn’t going to make it before having a heart attack, that is if the poison didn’t stop it first. No wonder he was confused and unbelieving of Porthos being alive.

He looked around the church for something to cover him up in and saw one of the tapestries hung low on the wall. He ran to it and tugged it off the wall to bring to Aramis. It was a lovely handsewn quilt, large and bright and nearly swallowed Aramis whole. He put an arm underneath Aramis’ legs and another under his arms and lifted his much too light boyfriend off the altar. Aramis’ head lolled in Porthos’ arms as though he was a doll with no ability to control his muscles.

Porthos bundled him in closer to his chest. “You stay awake you hear me Aramis? I can’t have just found you and be losing you already. ”

“Love you, Porthos. Thank you for rescuing me…” Aramis’ voice trailed off. Finally safe in his arms, Aramis let go of consciousness.

“No,” Porthos sobbed. “Please…”

His mind was racing and his chest constricted in panic. He pulled Aramis in a little closer, mindful of his broken leg and pivoted towards the door of the church, just as two gunshots went off one after the other.

 

_ D’Artagnan: _

This wasn’t fair. Just because he was a civilian it meant that he had to sit in the vehicle like a child. D’Artagnan huffed and crossed his arms across his chest for the millionth time that hour. No, it wasn’t fair at all. Everyone else got to go out and play super heroes and rescue his best friend so why couldn’t he? They hadn’t even given him a radio so he could follow the proceedings. He’d asked of course, but Athos told him that it would just encourage vigilante behaviour on his part. What would happen if something went wrong and they needed him? He wouldn’t even know! They could be dying right now!

He'd waited patiently for long enough and was ready to get out of the vehicle to look for them when Victor opened the door to the church. Lucky for them, though, d’Artagnan had the perfect vantage point from the parking lot. He could see Athos slip around the one side and he could see Serge and his men begin to converge on the front of the church.

D’Artagnan grinned, that vile man had no idea they were coming for him. He had no clue that Athos was creeping up on him and that Serge was seconds away from revealing himself. 

_ Wait. What was Victor holding in his hand? _

D’Artagnan fumbled in the car for the binoculars that Athos had forgotten and brought them to his eyes. Was Victor carrying a lighter? Why? Was he going to burn this church down too? It was like he had magical powers of suggestion because the lighter in Victor’s hands was switched on and he held it to the bottom most board of the building. D’Artagnan had never seen a building go up in flames like the church suddenly did. He figured that Victor must have doused it in something like gasoline to help it burn so fast.

He watched for a second as the flames shot up the sides of the church before calling 911, alerting them of the fire before peering back into the binoculars.

In the moments that d’Artagnan used to call in the emergency, Victor had walked down the steps of the church to survey his masterpiece. The man must have been lost in his glee because he failed to see Treville round the other corner of the church and shout for him to surrender. Victor turned to see who was shouting at him and that’s when d’Artagnan saw the flash of metal at his back. Athos rounded the opposite corner as Victor grabbed the gun from his waist. 

_ Athos wasn’t going to make it in time to stop Victor from shooting his uncle!  _ D’Artagnan made a split second decision and jumped out of the car, running for Victor.

“Athos! Victor’s got a gun!” He shouted.

Athos and Treville froze, their heads turning towards d’Artagnan who was running full speed towards Victor. D'Artagnan was so intent on his destination he didn’t hear Athos shout for him to stop. He didn’t see Victor spin around towards him and aim the gun. He didn’t hear the two gunshots, one after the other in succession. He didn't feel the impact. He didn’t notice that he’d stopped running or that he was laying flat on his back in the grass, staring up at the sky.

“D’Artagnan, can you hear me?” Someone asked.

“It’s cold outside,” He said. “Is it raining?”

“You’re cold because you are losing blood too fast. Captain call 911!” Athos shouted. “Why didn’t you stay in the car!”

D’Artagnan frowned,  _ what did Athos say? _ “Why am I losing blood?”

“Victor shot you, you idiot!”

_ Oh… _ D’Artagnan could hear the sirens in the distance. “Porthos?”

“He’s just coming out of the church, Treville is with him,” Athos said. D’Artagnan could hear his friend’s voice shaking and could feel the panicked tremors in his hands as he applied pressure to his gun wound. “He found Aramis.”

“Alive?”

“I don’t know…D’Artagnan? No, no, stay with me!”

 

_ Aramis _

He startled awake as he felt himself being laid on the ground. His head rolled to the side and he smiled when the grass tickled his cheek. The world around Aramis was a cacophony of sounds from sirens going off to people screaming and bellowing out orders. He heard Porthos shout his name and opened his eyes to see someone trying to insert an iv into his hand. His world darkened as searing pain raced through his muscles when someone jostled his side. He was so consumed by the pain throbbing he barely registered what they were doing.

It was then, in his bubble of safety, he heard a crackling sound he’d not heard in years. A wave of heat wafted over him bringing the faint smell of smoke.  _ Please no…  _ He opened his eyes again, not realizing he’d closed them and looked to his right. It was as though time itself slowed down. Someone moved out of the way, a fireman opened his water hose, a stained glass window shattered and the flames engulfed the steeple of the church.

It was too much… this was too much. He couldn’t do this anymore…

 

_ Athos _

The ambulances and fire trucks arrived in a flurry of sirens moments after d’Artagnan passed out. The EMT’s shoved Athos out of the way and went to work on reviving the younger man, getting him stable enough to place on a backboard. Athos felt useless as he watched them, he barely managed to stop himself from pacing back and forth. What had d’Artagnan been thinking running out like that? They had the situation under control! At least they thought they did. Athos should have known better than to leave his friend unattended, d’Artagnan had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Treville appeared at Athos’ side and placed a hand on his shoulder in support. “Athos,” Treville said. “We’ve called for a third ambulance for Victor, surprisingly he’s hanging on. Porthos needs you, it’s Aramis.”

_ Oh no, thought Athos, how could he forget Aramis… _

“Is he… I mean were we…” Athos couldn’t bring himself to voice his fears. What if they were too late?

“No we made it in time, but Athos, he was poisoned and Porthos isn’t taking it well. Your partner needs your support. I’ll stay with my nephew, go,” Treville said.

Athos took one last glance at d’Artagnan who was being lifted onto a stretcher and ran to Porthos. When he got there nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Aramis. His friend was laid out on a stretcher, white as a ghost and completely still. The EMT’s had hooked him up to a portable IV and he had a breathing apparatus covering his mouth. 

“He’s stopped breathing Athos,” Porthos cried. “I can’t lose him again, not when I’ve just gotten him back.”

“What happened in there?” Athos asked. He couldn’t stop staring at his friend as orders were being shouted between the medical personnel. There was a whining sound that increased in intensity until someone yelled  _ clear _ and paddles were placed across Aramis’ chest. His friend’s body jumped as the electrical current ran through it. Each time they shocked his heart Porthos startled and deflated a bit more.

“Please,” Porthos whispered. “God, please just save him.”

"Breathe Aramis, please," Athos whispered.

It felt like years before one of the EMT’s shouted that they had a pulse and Athos nearly fell to the ground in relief. Porthos pushed several EMT's out of the way to get to Aramis' side.

"Stay alive Aramis, you hear me?" Porthos said as Aramis was being wheeled to the ambulance. "Athos and I are on our way to meet you at the hospital."

“Porthos,” Athos asked again when the ambulances left, leaving the firefighters battling the blaze. “What happened?”

“Isabelle poisoned him and I think Victor killed her. Athos we have to get to the hospital, I don’t care about any of this crap anymore. Serge can deal with the investigation. I need to be with Aramis.”

“Treville went with d’Artagnan in the ambulance, let’s meet them both at the hospital.”

Porthos didn’t wait for an answer, he nodded and took off for the vehicle d’Artagnan had left abandoned in the parking lot earlier. Athos took one last look at the scene before him, he was so glad they’d found Aramis, but it was looking like they may lose him and he wasn’t prepared for that. The church was completely up in flames now and Athos doubted there would be anything left of it when the fire was out.

“Athos!” Porthos shouted from the car. “I’m not waiting, let’s go.”

Athos ran both hands through his hair and sighed before running to meet Porthos in the parking lot.


	22. April 1, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention there won't be a chapter next week because of Christmas!! 
> 
> So Merry Christmas and I'll see you on New Years! *hugs*

**April 1, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis**

  
  


There was so much sun... That was the first thought that permeated his brain. The sun filtering in through the window of whatever room he was in was blinding. Though how could one claim it was blinding when one hadn't even opened his eyes yet... So, he tried opening them and they felt thick and sticky and he gave up after only a second of actual trying.

He felt tingles everywhere as though he'd slept wrong on every nerve in his body and they were all deadened. There were familiar beeps and whoosh sounds surrounding him and something foreign in his throat. That last realization panicked him and he struggled to move his arms and open his eyes.

“Aramis?” Someone close to him asked in a soft whisper. “Aramis, it’s ok! Porthos, he's waking up, help me here.”

Hands gripped his legs and chest, holding him down, making him panic more. He struggled and tried to cry out, but whatever was in his throat made him choke and gag.

“Guys, just leave him be for a moment. Calm down a moment, Aramis, and listen to me...”

Aramis recognized d’Artagnan’s voice and settled down immediately his friend’s soft voice a balm to his panic.

“Good, good. Now can you open your eyes? All you’ll see is that you are in the hospital, surrounded by friends and with a breathing tube down your throat.”

Aramis kept his eyes closed a moment longer, allowing the tube to breathe for him and listened to his surroundings. There were familiar sounds of his place of work. Things he took for granted on a daily basis like the squeaking of hospital shoes, heart monitors beeping and electronics humming. He sighed internally, his panic receding completely. It was odd for this place to be a comfort to him, but he loved being a nurse and being able to help the sick people. It was just as much his home as his townhouse with Porthos, or d’Artagnan’s ugly flowered office chair, or Athos’ couch where they’d sit and watch movies when Porthos worked late. 

He finally opened his eyes to quite the sight, surrounding him were his brothers, Captain Treville and Constance. D’Artagnan was situated right beside him as close as one could possible get without being in the actual bed. His friend was also in a wheelchair, his jumbled mind couldn’t quite process the why though. Athos was on the other side of him, his hand firmly pressing down on his shoulder in support. Aramis desperately appreciated the silent support that Athos was providing. Treville and Constance were standing at the foot of the bed looking extremely pleased, though Aramis couldn’t guess why. Maybe because he was awake? He frowned. Didn’t they have jobs to do? Why were they standing around him? Why were his eyes closed, to begin with? Where was Porthos? Oh…

As if she knew who he was searching for, Constance moved out of the way and Aramis’ heart actually fluttered in his chest. Porthos, his wonderful Porthos, his very much alive Porthos. The memories of what happened rushed back to him in one fell swoop and he remembered that it was Porthos that saved him. Porthos who declared that he loved Aramis with everything he had in him but could he just hold on for one more moment. The same Porthos who was now scowling at him, looking incredibly uncomfortable and standing as far away from Aramis as he could get in the small room. 

They look at each other, neither refusing to relinquish the gaze first until d’Artagnan broke the connection.

“You gave us a pretty good scare there for a bit ‘Mis,” he said, using Porthos’ nickname for him. It wasn’t often that anyone but Porthos called him by that name that he figured he must’ve scared them badly enough they were looking for comfort. 

Aramis looked to his left to see his best friend sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and concerned. D’Artagnan’s arm was bound to his chest in a sling and covered in a rigid white cast.  He wanted to ask him what happened but the tube in his throat prevented any speaking and he wasn’t interested in grunting and whimpering to get his point across. It was then that he realized both of his hands were securely bound to the bed on either side of him. He looked at Constance puzzled about the restraints. 

“You were trying to pull it out,” she said pointing to the breathing tube. “I think we can remove it in a few minutes if you are amenable?”

Aramis blinked, his eyelids heavy, and nodded. He knew he’d just woken up, but he was still so exhausted. He watched as Constance walked over to a small room in the corner of his space and began washing her hands, presumably to remove the tube from his throat. The second she was facing away from his friends they all converged on his bed. Well, all except Porthos, who stayed leaning against the back wall of the room near the door. He dearly wished that Constance would be quick about removing the tube so he could ask Porthos to come closer. 

“Hey Aramis,” Athos said softly. His friend was smiling broadly. “It’s good to see you awake. How do you feel?”

“Well that’s a silly question for someone who can’t answer, Athos,” Treville said. “But it is good to have you back and I don’t plan on losing you again, kid.”

Aramis tried his best to smile around the tube and waved Treville off, before trying to give the two of them the thumbs up sign. He frowned having forgotten that his arms were tied to the bed. 

“Of course he’d say he was fine,”d’Artagnan chuckled. “You don’t have to be brave in front of us, brother. You’ve been through hell and we intend to help you through it this time.”

Aramis waved them off again, but this time there was a shake to his hand that he couldn’t quite control. He was holding onto a wobbly ledge and was fighting desperately not to fall to his death, so he needed to pretend that he was ok. He just needed them to allow him a few moments of normalcy so that he could ground himself otherwise he was going to start crying and he wasn’t going to be able to stop.

“Boys, why don’t we all give Aramis some breathing room. Porthos and I will stay and fill him in on what has happened,” Constance said and she began ushering the rest of the crew out.

“Uhhh d’Artagnan can stay, I need to deal with a few things,” Porthos said. He shuffled from foot to foot and made a hasty retreat out of the room.  

Aramis frowned, he realized that his boyfriend hadn’t so much as said one single thing to him since he’d woken up. Except they’d broken up before this whole ordeal, so he supposed he should consider it a blessing his ex-boyfriend even bothered to show up. 

D’Artagnan must have noticed Aramis frown because he placed his good hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s ok, Aramis, he’ll come around. It’s been a rough few weeks for both you and all of us. He’s struggling.” 

“Ahhhhhh, much better,” Constance sighed as the door shut behind the others.

With fewer people in the room, Aramis was able to relax and let go some of the stress he’d been feeling. While Constance gathered whatever she would need so she could take the breathing tube out, Aramis finally took a good look at the room's other occupant. D’Artagnan looked like shit. The man looked exhausted and pale, but mostly whole. He caught his friend’s eye, questioning his health with a firm look, causing d’Artagnan to laugh nervously and run his hand through his dark hair.

“I’m good, Aramis, honest. I’ve been sewn up and they have cleared me to get out of bed and walk around. The gunshot was minor and I am not feeling any side effects other than some mild tremors in my hands. They think it's due to the blood loss and I should make a full recovery if I promise to take it easy.”

Aramis nodded, knowing d’Artagnan would likely push himself to recover faster than possible. He fought hard not to chuckle because it was exactly what he would do as well. Aramis startled out of his thoughts a moment later when he felt fingers tickling his wrist and saw Constance undoing the buckles pinning his arms to the bed. 

“Cough,” Constance said taking hold of the end of the tube in his throat. He coughed and gagged as the tube slid out of his throat with only minor discomfort. Once she lifted the bed high enough, he took a drink of the water from the cup held to his lips. It surprised him how much the act of drinking water sapped all the strength from his muscles. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily and tried to control the violent tremors running through his limbs.

“I will go tell the others to give you two some peace, but d’Artagnan you need to get back into bed soon, so keep this chat short. Understand?” Constance ordered.

D’Artagnan nodded.

Aramis waited until Constance left the room before speaking to d’Artagnan. “What the hell happened to you?” He winced, speaking hurt. His friend offered him another drink from the cup of water much to Aramis’ relief.

“Victor came out of the church and set it on fire, Victor shot me and Athos shot him in response. It grazed my arm and hit me in the upper chest, near the shoulder,” d’Artagnan explained. “It cracked my humerus bone, hence the cast. I apparently bled a lot, though.”

“Victor shot you? Is he dead?”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “No, the bastard is hanging on.”

Aramis shook his head, wincing as pain raced up his neck into his head. Would he ever be free from him? The bastard just wouldn’t go away. “And me?”

“You don’t remember what happened to you?”

“I remember Victor cutting Isabelle’s throat and promising I would die this time. Then I remember Porthos untying me.”

D’Artagnan smiled, a grim look on his face, “I don’t know what happened, I was shot and passed out while Athos was attending to me. Athos said you coded before they got you to the hospital and I was already on route and being treated for a gunshot wound. We almost lost you that night, the poison Isabelle gave you was so fast acting. I was in and out of surgery before they even finished getting you into a critical but stable condition. Porthos said that the sedative Victor gave you counteracted the poison Isabelle administered, that’s the only reason you are alive right now. They airlifted you here to Paris once they stabilized you.”

“How long has it been?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Today is the seventh day, your fever only broke late last night.”

Aramis knew he should be more shocked by the passage of time, and he would be once the drugs in his system started to dissipate. But he was feeling floaty again and wanted nothing more than to drop off into dreamland for two more weeks.

“What about my leg?” The leg was resting in a fresh, white cast and was propped up on several pillows.

“They looked at it and it was healing really well, but they did surgery and added some stabilizing pins. Once it’s fully healed you’ll be as good as new.”

_ As good as new on the outside at least, everywhere but where it really counted. _

“Aramis, you’ll be ok. I’m going to help, I promise,” d’Artagnan said softly.

_ Of course, his friend would see through him and into what was going on in his head. _

“Porthos?” He mumbled. His eyes were beginning to close in exhaustion, but he wanted to know more about how his boyfriend was doing if Porthos still wanted to be his boyfriend after all this.

“He’s been here every minute of every day and I am sure that today won’t be any exception, especially now that you are awake. Don’t give up on him yet Aramis, he’ll come around. You should get some rest and I should get back to my own bed before Constance finds out I didn’t obey her orders.”

Aramis chuckled and coughed. He let his mind drift as he listened to d’Artagnan shuffle towards the door. 

“I’m so glad we have you back, brother,” d’Artagnan whispered.

Aramis just closed his eyes and sighed. "I’m not really sure you should be."

 

**April 1, 2016 - Hospital - D’Artagnan and Porthos**

 

“You have to talk to him at some point, Porthos, regardless of the outcome,” d’Artagnan said. “You can’t keep hiding behind excuses and the lies as a reason to leave him be.”

Porthos sighed and ran a hand through his curls. This was harder than he’d expected it to be. He had Aramis back, he was relatively safe and going to make a full recovery provided he stayed off his leg for another week or so. Really what more could a person want? Well, he actually knew exactly what he wanted and that was for things to go back to how they were a month ago. It wasn’t going to happen, though.

“You have to accept things won’t go back to the way they were. Also, accept that you both need to relearn each other in the aftermath of this,” d’Artagnan continued.

The two of them were sitting in the hospital cafeteria drinking the sludge that passed for coffee. Porthos lived in the cafeteria during the day while the world  was awake and especially now that Aramis was awake. At night he’d get comfortable and sleep in a chair at his bedside, stealing away in the early morning when the nurses would rotate their shifts. It was just bad luck that he’d been delayed in leaving this morning and Aramis chose that moment to wake. He’d handled it all wrong as well, running out like a coward before Aramis could ask him any questions.

“It was just so easy in the church,” Porthos whispered. “I thought I was going to lose him and the emotions were overwhelming. If those had been his last moments on earth I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d let him think I didn’t love him.”

“But you’re willing to let him believe that you hate him now that he is recovering?”

“What! How could you say that? I don't hate him,” Porthos exclaimed. God, he was making a fool of himself. This wasn’t coming out right, making him look like this evil villain intent on destroying the fair maiden. “I just… look I just need some time to come to terms with my own thoughts on this before I talk to him.”

“Well, come to terms faster. I realize he just woke up this morning but leaving him to worry like this isn’t going to help him get better. Every moment you wait puts more distance between you two until there will be a chasm so large it’s unrepairable.”

Panic flooded Porthos’ chest at the thought that the two of them might never be able to fix things. “I don’t want that…” He said, his voice trailing off.

D’Artagnan smiled, reached for Porthos’ forearm and held it tight. “Then give both of yourselves a break and talk. Listen to him and he will listen to you.”


	23. April 1, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis, Athos and Treville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, Hannukah or whatever holiday they celebrate at this time of year! 
> 
> In this chapter, Athos gets some much-awaited answers to his questions. Next chapter Aramis and Porthos finally talk, I promise.

**April 1, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis, Athos and Treville**

 

It was a few hours later when Aramis woke again, this time to Treville and Athos sitting on either side of him. He was worried for about half a second that he was about to get yelled at, but when he looked at them, their ear to ear grins managed to allay any fears he had. He might  _ still  _ get yelled at, but it wasn’t because they hated him.

“Hey Mis,” Athos said softly. He reached over and took Aramis’ hand, which was still warm from sleep. “How are you feeling and don’t say fine.”

Aramis paused a moment to assess how he was feeling as he’d only woken up this morning. “I feel slightly warm still, my leg hurts a bit and I am exhausted, but I feel leaps and bounds better than before.”

“Good,” Constance said as she entered the room. She handed him a small cup of pills and a mug of something delicious smelling. “You still have a low-grade fever which is more a result of the malnutrition and abuse you suffered than it is the poison. Here are your pain medication and some broth to take it with. These boys will make sure you drink it  _ all,  _ right?”

She waited with her hands on her hips for a confirmation and only left once all three nodded and Aramis took the pills. The cup of broth was almost too heavy for Aramis’ still shaking hands, but the warmth it provided made him reluctant to ask for help. He brought it to his nose and inhaled the lovely scent. It made him smile.

“It’s good to have you around to smile like that, Aramis,” Treville said. “But could you not ever do that to me again? This old heart can’t take another scare like that.”

“I’m sorry for scaring everyone…” Aramis responded. He hung his head down and fiddled with the cup in his hands. “I’m not sorry I did it, though.”

Not knowing what was going on in Aramis’ head and wanting to get the next part of the conversation over with, Athos plowed onwards. “Yes, well, that’s part of the reason we are here. There are so many questions that need answering and I imagine you have a few of your own. The main question is why you did all this.”

“How much of my past did you all uncover?” Aramis interrupted.

“Everything up to the fire and we had some help from an old friend of yours describing what happened during it. We know about the anonymous donation and the insurance policies.” Treville said.

“V--Victor said that Marsac was alive, is that true?” Aramis asked.

Athos nodded. He couldn’t imagine the guilt his friend would be feeling for not looking for his friend and for not knowing he was alive all these years. “Would you have told him you lived, had you known?”

Aramis bit his lower lip and shook his head no.

“Alright,” Treville sighed. “We will answer all your questions after you’ve answered ours, understand?”

Athos watched Aramis cringe because of Treville’s sudden cool tone and immediately sought to correct that. If they continued being clinical Aramis would close off and they would get no information. Athos desperately wanted to know what happened, but not at the cost of his friend and so they needed to allow him to go at his own pace. He took the empty mug from Aramis and set it on the table beside him before taking Aramis’ hand causing his friend to look directly at him.

“Aramis, I’m sorry that you had to go through all this, but we just need some answers and an official statement from you. It’s true that Victor survived and according to the nurses he might actually make a full recovery. It’s our chance to finally put him back behind bars, permanently, no loopholes if we do this properly. Can you understand where we are coming from? Why we have to do this?” Athos waited a moment for Aramis to process before continuing. “I promise that neither Treville or I are angry with you, we are so glad you are back, but we have a job to do as well.”

“Okay…”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll tell you everything,” Aramis acquiesced. “But you have to promise that when I give you the reason why I did all this, that it will be enough. You won’t pursue the source of the reason. I will move literal mountains to keep everyone from disrupting her happy life.”

Athos and Treville shared a bewildered glance. Never had they heard Aramis speak so passionately about something and neither of them had missed the last sentence. It spoke volumes about the type of person Aramis was, that even now after the dust settled, he was still protecting Ninon.

“We are doing everything we can to find Ninon and make sure she is safe,” Treville said.

Aramis shook his head, refusing to meet either of their gazes. “Ninon can take care of herself, we accounted for the need to vanish someday. I’m talking about my daughter.”

Athos nearly fell out of his chair at Aramis’ admission. “Your… daughter? But Adele… I don’t understand.”

Aramis smiled grimly and relayed the events of the night of the fire. He gave his point of view from the discovery of the fire all the way to the saving of the baby and running off just as the emergency vehicles were pulling up. Both Athos and Treville listened with rapt attention as the pieces fell into place with every bit of information Aramis shared. When he finished it was quiet for a while as they digested the fact that Aramis had a daughter.

“So when you described what your child would look like if you had one…” Athos began. “Oh, Aramis, I wish you’d told me. Of all us, I would’ve understood the pain of watching someone walk away with your child. That… I mean… it hurts to give up a child, you know?”

“It helps that Ninon has kept in touch with me over the years and sends me pictures. At at the end of the day, though, I chose for it to be a full adoption and for Renee not to know who I am. I am on her birth certificate, but that document is sealed. She would be seven now and she’s way too young to understand why I wasn’t around."

"Is that what's in that sealed file?" Athos asked.

Aramis nodded, "That, the adoption papers, the insurance documents and Adele's real autopsy report."

Athos sat back in the chair and sighed. He finally knew what was in that sealed file. He hated to admit that Ninon was correct about the file's contents not being helpful in locating Aramis. 

"Please stop your search for Ninon…” Aramis begged.

“We are trying to make sure she’s ok Aramis,” Treville said. “Who knows how far of a reach Victor and Isabelle have. Isabelle followed you around for months without you noticing. There was a mole in the precinct as well.”

Aramis gasped, “Who was the mole?”

“A new guy by the name of Charbonneau, we have him in custody,” Treville responded.

It was because of the mole that both he and Treville were concerned enough to want to find Ninon, otherwise they would allow Aramis his request to leave her alone. “So you see why we can’t just let Ninon run around Europe, we need to be able to protect her until all this goes away.”

“Has any of this reached the media?” Aramis asked suddenly.

Athos shook his head. “No, nothing other than the capture of the serial killers, thanks to Dr Lemay. They know you we recovered you alive, but the motives have not been released. Officially, you were just a means to an end to Victor and Isabelle. Part of their sick plan to destroy everyone they came in contact with.”

“All those women… Lemay... It’s all my fault!” Aramis cried. He hid his face in his hands and let out a moan. “Even those couples seven years ago were all part of a vendetta against me.”

“No, Aramis, you didn’t know. How could you know? You thought Victor was still in jail and you didn’t even know that he was behind this,” Treville said.

Aramis looked up at Treville sadly, “But I knew Isabelle was somewhere,  _ I should have known _ …”

“Aramis,” Treville said. “Nothing about what happened to you is your fault and I hope that with time and some help from your friends you’ll come to realize that. None of us blames you for what you did, we just wish you’d told us.”

“I am  _ so _ sorry…” Aramis said trailing off. He knew he could say sorry a million times, but it wouldn’t help soften the guilt tearing at his heart.

“What happened after the fire, Aramis?” Treville asked hoping to change the subject. “How did you and Ninon manage to convince the insurance companies to pay out that kind of money?”

Grateful for the distraction from his downward guilt spiral Aramis sighed and settled back into the pillows on his bed. He’d not told this story to anyone, not even Ninon and he discussed what happened in those weeks that followed. Despite his friends knowing who he was and what happened, it didn’t make this conversation any easier.  He knew he had to speak about it at some point, though.

“Ahh you can thank Ninon for having the foresight to contact Richelieu,” Aramis began with a shaky voice. “His wife Charlotte worked in the insurance industry, she knew about Renee and was able to transfer most of it into her name as the sole survivor. It took us about two weeks to get everything in order and get our lives all setup. Ninon chose to take Renee out of the country and I chose to move to Paris and complete my master's degree. I spent every second of my time with my daughter, getting to know her before I had to give her up. The only time we were apart from her was to secretly attend the memorial service for everyone who died.”

Aramis paused, recomposing himself before continuing. He had a captivated audience in these two as Treville was leaning forward in his seat as though Aramis was whispering and Athos had pulled his chair right up to the bed.

“We left Savoy together, it was a pretty tearful goodbye at the airport. I got set up in an apartment near the Eiffel tower, far more extravagant than I wanted, but Richelieu and Charlotte wouldn’t allow me a choice. They made sure I was looked after, we kept in touch for maybe a year before Charlotte was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. She didn’t make it beyond another year and I only managed to visit her once. In the meantime, I’d already met d’Artagnan and had my breakdown in one of our professor's classes. I went to see Professor David for several months after just to chat and he was the one that suggested creating the scrapbook as a way to cope.”

“We all feel bad that we didn’t find that scrapbook until it was almost too late,” Athos said quietly. “Porthos probably the most.”

“Well, I can’t tell him not to feel guilty about it unless he gets over himself and visits me,” Aramis responded bitterly. He knew he was being unfair, but his emotions were uncontrollable right now. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware that Porthos was avoiding him like the plague. While he didn’t blame him for it, he still had hope that he could somehow convince the man to at least listen to his side of the story. 

Athos squeezed Aramis’ wrist eliciting a small yelp of pain from him. “That’s unfair of you to say, you have to give him time. Please don’t make me choose a side in this…”

The grip on Aramis’ hand was the same one that Victor had nearly crushed and he didn't hear what Athos was saying in the face of the memories that were assaulting him.

_ “Rene, would you like to learn a lesson?” _

“Athos, stop, you’re hurting him.”

_ “I do so love hearing bones crack, but breaking hearts can be just as satisfying. Don't you think Rene?” _

At Treville’s command, Athos released Aramis’ hand as if it just burned him. “Oh… I didn’t mean… I--I hurt you?”

Aramis didn’t answer Athos, he was staring down at his offending wrist which was throbbing with phantom pain.

_ "Rene, pay attention. I want you lucid for what comes next." _

“Aramis, answer me please,” Athos pleaded. He hadn’t meant to hurt Aramis, especially after the ordeal he’d just gone through. His face paled a bit at the thought that he could have potentially triggered something by holding him so forcefully. Aramis was still staring with wide, panicked eyes at his wrist, not saying anything.

“Where’s the emergency button, call for someone,” Treville shouted.

Athos fumbled for the device, pressing it the red button over and over until a voice came over the intercom in the room.

“Get d’Artagnan, now!” Athos cried as soon as the nurse asked what they needed.

He dropped the emergency button down and hurried to the other side of the bed where Treville was speaking in a low voice to Aramis, trying to calm him down.

Aramis stayed unresponsive, staring unseeing into the room and shaking the entire time they waited for d’Artagnan to get to the room. He arrived in a flurry, racing straight to his friend’s bedside, bringing Porthos along with him.

“Athos, what happened?” d’Artagnan asked.

“I… I got angry with him and yanked his wrist. He got cold and pale and started shaking. He hasn’t said a thing since,” Athos responded, wincing at the glare d’Artagnan levelled on him.

D’Artagnan stood up and faced everyone in the room. “Guys, can you give Aramis and me a second please?”

Treville, Porthos and Athos nodded and left the room. They stood awkwardly in the hallway while d’Artagnan tried to calm Aramis down. Each of them stood an uncomfortable distance from one another trying to make sense of the situation.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Athos spoke first.

“Something tells me that until he gets some help this is going to be a common occurrence,” Porthos responded. “I forgot that when I was untying those ropes at the church he found faded bruising around the same wrist he was cradling just now.”

“Do you think Victor hurt him there?” Treville asked.

“I think that whatever Victor and Isabelle did to him while he was captive, will have far-reaching consequences,” Athos said. “I was just the first one to discover how careful we’ll have to be. I honestly feel bad for losing my temper.”

Porthos shook his head and laid his hand on Athos’ shoulder. “You couldn’t have known that getting angry with him would cause this, partner. What did he say to anger you so bad?”

“In hindsight, absolutely nothing. He’s just worried that you’ll never forgive him and is a bit bitter over the situation he’s in right now,” Athos said.

“I just need time to figure out exactly what I want if that makes any sense. He’s been through so much and I’m still struggling with the fact that he’s lied to me for five years. Everyone needs to back off me for a bit,” Porthos retorted.

“We know and you can take all the time you need. Just keep in mind that the longer you wait to decide, the longer he has to wait for your decision. I’m not trying to take sides here, but you two are my friends and it hurts to see you two torn asunder,” Athos said.

“I’m not leaving him Athos.”

“Then tell him that, not me. Do you think he’ll be ok?” Athos asked Treville, effectively ending the line of conversation between him and Porthos.

“D’Artagnan will set him straight,” Treville said positively. “Those two are close and if anyone can help Aramis, it will be his best friend.”

Unaware of what they were doing the three men began moving closer to one another until they were shoulder to shoulder. 

\---

It wasn’t long before d’Artagnan walked out of the room, running his hand through his hair and looking a little bit stressed out. The other three men parted, turning to face their youngest friend in the hopes that he had good news about Aramis.

“He’s calmed down, he’s ok. I called a nurse to come give him a sedative,” he said. “I’m a little out of my depth here though and I told him I was calling our old professor to help.”

The guys all nodded, relieved that Aramis was okay and getting the help he needed.

“Oh, and Athos,” d’Artagnan continued, “Aramis says he’s sorry and asks you to not blame yourself for what happened in there.”

Athos shook his head in disagreement. “It’s too late, I shouldn’t have gotten angry with him like that. He’s been through so much and we don’t even know everything that happened to him there.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us in his own time, for now, let’s leave him be,” Treville said. “I’ll stay with him tonight Porthos, you go home and rest. Also, have a shower will you, you’re beginning to take on a new odour.”

Porthos glared at Treville until Athos took his forearm and dragged him down the hallway.

“I’m just going to stay with Aramis until the nurse comes to give him something to make him sleep,” d’Artagnan said. "It's probably best we don't ask him to relay any more information until we know more about what he went through. I don't think triggering an emotional breakdown right now would be good for his health."

"I think we managed to get enough information to form a statement," Treville responded. "But I agree, I just want to spend the evening with him. I'm so grateful he's back and alive."

"Me too," smiled d'Artagnan. 


	24. April 2, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis and Porthos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the part you have all been waiting for! Aramis and Porthos talk. I was torn whether to include the second part of this chapter because it makes it super long, but I figured I would just add it all anyways.
> 
> I am sorrynotsorry for the end... But rest assured none of our boys die.
> 
> Thanks to Tazzyjan who pointed out that wheelchairs and physics don't work the way I wanted them to and basically made me fix it.

**April 2, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis and Porthos**

 

“So you know that I know,” Porthos said awkwardly. He shuffled from foot to foot while standing in the door frame of Aramis’ hospital room.

“I do, Athos filled me in on what happened. You may as well come in, I can’t go anywhere while my leg is in traction. Also, Constance said she’d tie my hands back down if I moved from this bed,” Aramis chuckled. He was nervous and using humour to deflect and he knew he was failing in the face of the scowl Porthos was wearing.

Alright then… straight to business _._

“You want me to talk about Rene I assume.”

“Tell me about him,” Porthos asked as he walked into the room and sat down in the hard plastic chair beside the bed. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair and stared at him with intent.

He breathed a sigh of relief that he was going to at least be given the chance to explain.

“Ok… Rene was born in Savoy to a wonderful set of parents. He was the youngest child and the first boy…” He paused. “Is this the sort of thing you wanted to know?”

At Porthos’ nod, he continued. “Rene was an excellent sharpshooter. He’d go hunting with his Dad and never missed a shot. He and his Dad used to go to the gun range all the time and Rene held the record for the most bullseyes.”

“Aren’t those called marksmen?” Porthos interrupted.

“Actually no, a marksman is lower in rank than a sharpshooter according to the military. Rene could by all rights hold the title of expert sharpshooter if he was in the military that is.”

Porthos huffed, “I've never seen my Aramis hold a gun.”

“Trust me, I could put your best sniper in the force to shame with my marksmanship,” Aramis bragged. He was hoping to lighten the mood but worried because bragging about his skills wasn’t something he ever did.

“What else,” Porthos asked gruffly.

Aramis’ heart sank, he had a feeling this wasn’t going well and was struggling to figure out what Porthos wanted. Obviously, he’d apologised but that didn’t seem to be the right thing because it wasn’t being accepted by Porthos.

“I… uhh, Rene was a crafty person, he liked to embroider and cross stitch. It’s what happens when you live with all female siblings.”

Porthos hummed, “Aramis likes to embroider. I have a million pillows with dainty crosses all over them to prove that.”

“Yes, yes I do…Rene knew he wanted to be a nurse from a young age. His mother was a social worker and taught him how to appreciate helping people. He couldn't’ handle the thought of ripping children away from their parents so he chose the next best thing. Helping the sick people get better faster.”

“Aramis likes being a nurse, he’s damn good at it too,” Porthos responded.

Aramis was beginning to become puzzled by Porthos’ responses. He kept referring to him in the third person and as though Rene was in a competition with Aramis. What was going on?

“Porthos,” Aramis asked. “Why are you referring to me in the third person?”

“Why are you referring to Rene as though you aren’t him?” Porthos shot back.

His voice had gone cold and menacing and Aramis couldn't help but shiver a little at the iciness. With a sudden clarity, he knew that this was exactly where Porthos had wanted this conversation to go. Porthos wanted to know if Rene was the same person now as he was back then. If his being Aramis for seven years was a complete farce. Aramis now knew why Porthos wouldn’t accept his apology, he already had his forgiveness.

No, this was more than a simple apology. All this talking was his chance to prove that Rene was just an extension of his personality, that not every part of Aramis was fake. Rene was no less important than Aramis was and that the two personalities were interconnected. In other words, Aramis and Rene were the exact same person.

 _And there lies the problem_ , thought Aramis. Because were they the same person anymore? Rene existed in a different environment where he'd had living, breathing parents and siblings. He had a wife and a child on the way and a whole other path his life was going down. Aramis existed only after all that was lost after the path had crumbled and fell away. Aramis was built on a shaky foundation… simply put, Aramis was broken…

But if you looked at it a different way Aramis _was_ broken but did that make him any less of a person? If a house was built on a shaky foundation, you didn’t tear a perfectly good structure down, you tried to repair it first. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for seven years, trying to rebuild his foundations? Was he anything less than what he was seven years ago when he stopped being Rene? If you looked at it from a different angle he was Rene plus so much more. He’d never ceased being Rene from a physical, emotional or even a personal sense. He’d brought all Rene’s qualities to Aramis and added to them over the years.

“I don’t know what’s running through your head right now Mis. You’ve been staring at your hands for a long time,” Porthos said. He reached across and took hold of Aramis’ hand and pulled him out of his thoughts. "Talk to me, please, and for once just tell me the truth."

Aramis squeezed Porthos’ hand, trying to fight back the tears threatening to tumble from his eyes. "I don't want to talk about this... I don't want to lose you. I am scared that you'll leave me if I admit that I am Rene," He whispered. He pulled his hand out of Porthos' and hid his face in his palms

“But I already know you’re Rene, it’s you that won’t admit it.”

“This isn’t _easy_ , I haven’t even thought about that name in a long time… I haven’t allowed myself to be him.”

Porthos sat back in his chair and sighed as he stared at Aramis in disappointment.

Aramis tried hard to stop his face from crumpling up, but it was in vain as tears leaked from his eyes and he let out a sob. He knew some of this overwhelming emotion was the medication he’d been given, but most of it was fear and utter exhaustion. He’d never seen Porthos look at him with such defeat and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to experience again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t seem to keep my emotions from overwhelming me every time someone speaks to me. I can’t seem to get anyone to understand why I did this...” He took a moment to reign in his emotions before swiping at his eyes and then raised his eyes to meet Porthos’. The man was looking at him with guarded concern and it broke his heart to know that Porthos even needed to look at him in that manner.

Long minutes passed before Aramis felt ready to speak again. Trying for a slight change in tone of the conversation, he cleared his throat and spoke. “Athos said you guys delved pretty far into Rene’s… I mean _my_ past. He didn’t seem to know why I did it all, though, and was pretty floored when I told him.”

“We found the scrapbook and it went a long way to filling some gaps, but no one found the letter and its contents. I kept that hidden from them knowing that it was your story to tell.”

“So you know about--”

“Your daughter, yes,” Porthos interrupted. “Why didn’t you tell me? We had no secrets between us!”

“I’m so sorry…” Aramis said softly.

“No. Just no, Aramis. Enough with the sorry’s and the forgive me’s. You were a whole other person for longer than you were my Aramis! You married a woman and had a baby. You hid your entire persona and created this!” Porthos flung his arm out at Aramis, making his point. “You couldn’t be _more_ of a contradiction to your past self!”

Aramis cringed and pulled away from Porthos’ fury. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve it as he had this coming to him for years now. It’s just that he hadn’t ever expected any of this to come to light.

“I thought you loved me… Was that a lie too?” This time it was Porthos who shoved his face into his hands as silent sobs wracked his frame.

“Porthos…no...” Aramis said, his voice cracking with overwhelming emotion. “I never expected to find someone to love or to love me ever again. You were and are everything to me!”

“How do I believe you after all this?”

“Because my whole life has been laid bare for every single one of my friends to see. I don’t have any more secrets, I don't have my wife, I don't have my child and it looks like I don't even have you. I have nothing left. This is what's left of me, weak and pathetic and begging you for another chance. I promise you there is  little to learn about Rene because _he_ is _me_ , but I understand all the same if you choose to leave.”

It was silent for a long while as Aramis waited for some sign that Porthos heard the words he’d just spoken. The only sound coming from Porthos were heavy breaths as he tried to calm himself, Aramis presumed. He had to try something, anything, to break the tension between them. The words tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could shut him down.

“I get d’Artagnan, though, if you leave me,” he said in his most serious voice.

Porthos snorted and looked up. He still had tears in his eyes, which he wiped away with his hand before grinning. Aramis’ heart soared as the twinkle in Porthos’ eyes returned and his smile grew so wide his cheek dimpled. “And what, leave me with custody of our resident grumpy bear Athos? No way, I’ll take the kid, you get Athos.”

They laughed hard until they were both crying and Aramis’ stomach was beginning to spasm.

“I vowed I wasn’t going to leave you a second time, Aramis, and I intend to keep that promise,” Porthos said softly. He took hold of Aramis' hand again being careful not to touch his wrist, still worried about triggering something. “No more lies, you hear me? Or we won’t get past this…”

Aramis nearly sobbed in relief, _oh God he was going to get to keep Porthos!_

“No more lies,” he promised.

Porthos stood up and pulled Aramis into his arms, hugging him so tight it stole his breath away. Not that he minded as long as Porthos would hold him like this for the rest of his days.

  


**April 2, 2016 -  Hospital - Aramis**

 

 

He was so grateful to have Porthos back that mere words couldn’t even describe the fullness of his heart. They sat and talked for a long time until his leg began to bother him and he was unable to hide the pain any longer.

Porthos left to go flag down a nurse to bring him some pain medication and find Athos, promising to be back within the hour.

Aramis allowed his mind to wander, steering clear of the most recent few weeks’ events. Marsac, Ninon and his daughter were foremost in his thoughts. Last time he’d spoken to Ninon, Renee was entering grade two. Intelligent, fiery and with a love for reading, his daughter was doing well in her classes. Ninon had certainly done an excellent job of raising her and their twice-yearly calls were always spent speaking about Renee.

He didn’t know what he was going to do now that the truth was out. She was just a little girl and it's been seven years, could Aramis upheave her life and re-enter it? How could anyone explain to a child why their father vanished for so long without looking for them? Could he stand living without her knowing and not being a part of her life until she was old enough to understand? He knew Athos was doing it, but he never spoke of his son other than the one night when they were drunk.

Seven years ago, on the eve of their new lives, he and Ninon sat down and planned for every potential problem they could come up with. Most of them involved protecting Renee at all costs and would have Ninon and her vanishing at the first sign of trouble. Athos had mentioned yesterday evening that they couldn’t find her and that the kids were pulled out of school, which would make sense. Of all the problems they'd gone over, funnily enough, Victor was not on the list. They'd never imagined that he'd be out of jail long before he was supposed to. Ninon would’ve found out Victor was free and vanished. She’d contact Aramis when she felt safe, but there was a small part of him that was worried. He seemed to remember that Victor vanished for a few days during his captivity and Isabelle wouldn’t tell him where he was. What if Victor had found Ninon and taken them? Once he got out of here, Aramis would ask d’Artagnan to help him to find her. He was at least confident that Ninon would find a way to contact him and that it would be soon.

Marsac being alive had to be the biggest shocker of all. The guilt in not looking for him after the fire would tear his soul to shreds for a long time to come. D'Artagnan told him Marsac was dying of cancer and didn't have much time left. He was hoping to find out if there was any way he could help the man and at least extend his life. The moment he was free of this place he was going to find him.

Lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear Porthos enter the room and hobble to the side of the bed.

“The nurse came a few minutes ago to give me something for my leg. Thanks for going to get them,” Aramis said without looking up.

“That’s a shame, I wanted you to feel every little bit of pain in your last few moments.”

Aramis froze when Porthos spoke… because it wasn’t Porthos. A shiver raced through his body as ice-cold dread filled his veins. He raised his head slowly already knowing that the man standing before him was going to be Victor.

The man looked haggard but quite sturdy for someone who was supposed to be hanging on by a thread. It looked like he’d raided a hallway cart full of fresh linens. Aramis couldn’t see a bullet wound anywhere but assumed it was underneath the fancy new patient scrubs he was wearing.

“Victor,” Aramis said with a strained voice.

“Imagine my surprise,” Victor said. He walked to the foot of the bed and unhooked Aramis' leg from the traction cradle, allowing his leg to drop roughly to the bed. He grinned when Aramis gasped in pain. “I see the medication hasn’t kicked in. Oh, no, no, you stay right where you are. The only place you’ll be going is to hell, this time for sure and by my own bare hands.”

“Why are you doing this?” Aramis asked still struggling to get out of the bed.

Victor rolled his eyes and pulled out handcuffs from his pocket. He swung them around his fingers and walked back up to the middle of the bed. “It’s like you don’t even listen to me, we’ve gone over this before. Give me your hands.”

Aramis pulled his hands away from Victor, struggling to move away and prevent the man from capturing him again. He had no clue where he was going to go with a broken leg that couldn't support his weight, but if it got him away from this man, he was game. He wished Porthos hadn’t left, how long had he been gone?

“I said. Give. Me. Your. Hands. I won’t ask again.”

Instead, Aramis reached over and fumbled for the emergency button to call the nurses. Victor lunged over his body swatting the device out of Aramis’ hands before he could press the button. The button hit the floor with a clatter as Victor righted himself and straddled Aramis, trapping him on the bed. He slid the cuffs on Aramis’ wrists before he could even react and then grabbed his throat and squeezed.

“I should cut your throat but at this point, you’d die far too quick and I want to savour your last few moments. I deserve that don’t you think? Especially after so many failed attempts.”

“Screw you,” Aramis croaked. Victor’s hand was strong in its grip and he could feel his breathing was becoming more difficult. Aramis gasped as the hands around his neck tightened, forcing out what little air remained in his lungs. He couldn’t even draw breath now and panic was beginning to settle in his mind. “Porthos…”

“Your boyfriend is dead and now you’ll finally join him,” he growled.

Victor’s strength was no match for Aramis’ weakened and malnourished body. He tried to tear the man’s fingers away from his neck, but the handcuffs hindered him from getting any sort of grip. His vision was greying at the edges, his heart beating madly in his chest and he felt like his eyes were going to pop out if Victor squeezed any tighter.

Oh God, he really was going to die this time…

\---------------

 

When Porthos walked into the room a few moments later nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Victor was in the room on top of Aramis, straddling him, and choking the life out of him. Aramis' leg was no longer in traction and he was wearing metal handcuffs that looked just shy of way too tight. He went from calm to enraged in milliseconds.

_“Screw you,” Porthos heard his boyfriend gasp. “Porthos…”_

_“Your boyfriend is dead and now you’ll finally join him,” Victor growled._

Porthos looked around until he eyed a sturdy looking, metal bed pan sitting on one of the tables near the door. As quietly as possible he picked it up he took a couple of steps to Aramis’ bed and swung.

“Too bad I'm not dead,” Porthos said.

The bedpan smashed into Victor's head with a resounding twang causing the man to cry out in pain. He let go of Aramis’ neck and attempted to scramble off Aramis. Porthos, not wasting the opportunity, grabbed him by the back of the hospital scrubs and flung him the rest of the way off the bed. Victor hit the ground on the opposite side of the bed, his head cracking loudly against the hard floor.

Porthos raced to his boyfriend’s side trying to calm him down. Aramis was shaking so hard that Porthos was afraid he’d fall out of bed from that alone. “Aramis, shh, calm down, you’re safe, I promise.”

Aramis’ eyes widened, “P--Porthos, look out!”

Porthos leaned over the Aramis to see Victor moving on the ground and berated himself for not checking to make sure the man was out. He was surprised that after the force of the hits to the head that Victor was still alive and functioning. He pulled his gun out from his back holster and aimed it at the man on the floor.

“Y--you people jus--just won’t die,” Victor stammered. He lifted a shaking hand and grabbed the edge of the wheelchair d’Artagnan had left in the room the day before pulling himself up. Victor now had sizeable gashes on both sides of his head from each impact.

Porthos snorted, “I could say the same of you. Back away from Aramis, now.”

Victor laughed, he was standing, albeit a bit wobbly from the blows to his head, right next to Aramis. Closer than Porthos was, actually. He reached down and pulled out a scalpel from his pockets showing it to Porthos.

“You could shoot me and take the chance that the bullet would kill me immediately. Or you could try, fail and watch me slice open his neck faster than you could reach this side of the bed. So, I'd suggest backing off now,” Victor growled. He took a fistful of Aramis’ hair and pulled him into a sitting position, placing the scalpel up against the skin of his neck. “I won’t hesitate to cut.”

“Let him go,” Porthos said barely containing his rage. His clenched the gun in his hands a little tighter, growling in anger at the situation they were in. The only thing keeping Porthos at bay was the knowledge that one swipe of the blade could do serious damage to Aramis.

They were at a stand still. Porthos was on the side of the bed closest to the door. Victor was on the other side, still holding the scalpel to Aramis’ neck. There was no way Porthos was letting Victor get through that door with Aramis. His boyfriend was still panting from his earlier choking and his throat had angry red marks that would no doubt bruise.

“Porthos...” Aramis rasped. “Don't be a hero for me.”

“You think I am going to let this crazy psycho take you again? He will make sure you die this time.” Porthos exclaimed. He inched closer to the end of the bed intending to do something foolish.

“How touching,” Victor laughed. “Ah ah ah, stand down Porthos, I’m not kidding about slicing his throat. Hand me your gun.”

Porthos froze as Victor pressed a bit harder and cut into Aramis' skin causing a trickle of blood to slide down his neck.

“Don’t listen to him Porthos!” Aramis yelped.

“Shut up, Rene, you don’t get a choice here,” Victor said. To prove his point he yanked on Aramis' hair again causing him to cry out in pain. “What is it with you people and not following instructions? Place the gun on the bed near me, _now_. I won’t ask again.”

Porthos and Victor glared at each other before Porthos' shoulders drooped in defeat. He laid his gun on the bed near Aramis’ feet and took a step backwards, hands raised in surrender.

"Good,” he said and pulled the scalpel away from Aramis’ neck to reach for the gun.

Porthos considered jumping him as he took the gun off the bed, but a slight flash of metal stopped him. While the scalpel wasn’t against his boyfriend's neck, it was still pointed towards him, ready to plunge into his body the second Porthos so much as twitched.

“Now, don’t make any funny moves or I will shoot him,” Victor said like he'd read Porthos' mind.

He put the scalpel in his pocket and still holding the gun, he grabbed Aramis under the armpits, hauling him into the wheelchair.

Aramis cried out at the rough handling and missed Porthos’ shout of anger. He was so consumed by the pain throbbing up and down his limb that he stopped paying attention to what his captor was doing. He realized a second too late what was going to happen. Victor, using Porthos’ distraction over his own welfare, picked up the pitcher of ice water at Aramis’ bedside. The man flung its contents at his boyfriend, who shouted as cold water and chunks of ice hit his face. Victor pulled the scalpel from his pocket, ran to the end of the bed, and sliced a thin line across Porthos’ chest. Porthos staggered back with a cry, hands flying to his wound to stem the flow of blood. Not wasting the opportunity, Victor brought the metal pitcher down into the top of Porthos’ head. He hit with such force that Porthos' eyes rolled and he fell to the ground unconscious.

“Porthos!” Aramis shouted. There was no response, not even so much as a twitch from his boyfriend on the ground. He turned to Victor who was grinning from ear to ear and panting heavily from exertion. “You've just made a grave mistake and you will pay for that.”

“Add it to my list of grievances,” Victor growled. He walked back to Aramis and took his cuffed hands, tying them with a roll of gauze to one of the arms of the wheelchair. Aramis tried to struggle and received a hit to his temple for his troubles, dazing him.

Aramis had to admit he was terrified now, he was having a hard time breathing and it had nothing to do with the choking Victor had done earlier. No, this was pure fear settling in his chest, he’d thought he was safe, he thought Porthos was safe. Athos had assured him Victor was going to go to jail, that he was recovering but still too weak to get up and move around. How the hell had the man gotten out of his room, wasn’t it guarded?

Aramis tracked Victor as he fumbled around the room, wiping both sides of his head of the blood from being hit. How had he survived two devastating blows to the head and still manage to walk around like nothing? He had so many questions that he knew would never get answered.

Once he was done, Victor walked over to Porthos’ prone form, flipped him onto his back and pushed him off to the side to make room for the wheelchair. He stood right in Aramis’ line of sight and try as he might, he couldn’t see his boyfriend and whether he was ok. There was a growing pool of blood on the floor underneath Porthos that frightened him. He hoped that he was going to be ok. The blow to Porthos' head was devastating and would be an image that Aramis would see in his dreams for a long time if he survived this.

“Now, Rene, let’s get out of here.” Shoving the scalpel once more into the pocket of his pants Victor walked behind the wheelchair and pushed Aramis towards the door.

 

What happened after was completely surreal to him, something that he watched happen as though he was a fly on the wall. In his hazy mind, thanks to being choked, having his leg jostled too much and being manhandled and hit, things moved fast and yet so slow.

The hallway was a cacophony of sounds from emergency alarms going off, people screaming and others bellowing out orders. The second he and Victor entered the hallway they met with Athos, Treville and Serge racing toward them, their guns drawn. Apparently, they’d figured out Victor wasn’t in his room.

Victor inched the wheelchair backwards toward the other end of the hallway which ended in a set of emergency fire doors. Aramis heard his name shouted and he blinked to see his best friend standing front and centre.

“Aramis, can you hear me?” D’Artagnan asked. He took a step closer to Aramis as if being near him would help. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and then shook his head as he closed his eyes trying to clear some of the confusion of what was going on. He could see d’Artagnan was worried, in fact, each of them looked frightened, but there wasn’t anything Aramis could do to alleviate their worry. He felt Victor press the gun to his head, jabbing it into his temple and shouting for d'Artagnan to move back.

When he opened his eyes time had jumped forward. Victor now stood with the gun cocked and pointed towards d’Artagnan who had moved closer to them. He had his hand in the air, hoping to convince Victor to surrender. Athos and Treville were standing just behind with their guns still pointed at Aramis' captor.

“Let him go, Victor, let’s talk about this," d’Artagnan said in his most soothing, calm voice. “There’s been enough violence these past few weeks.”

Victor fisted his hand in Aramis’ hair, tugging the curls and placing the gun against his temple again. Aramis fought not to whimper at the rough treatment as his hair felt like it was being ripped from his head. “Stand back and lower your guns or I will shoot him right in front of you!”

Victor waited until Athos and Treville lowered their guns before removing his own gun from Aramis' temple. One hand still remained in Aramis' hair in a death grip that brought tears to his eyes. Once everyone had backed up enough to appease him, Victor took a step backwards, pulling the wheelchair with him. Aramis knew that with the number of people blocking the obvious exit in front that Victor would try to make a run for the emergency exit behind them.

"You don't have to do this." Aramis heard Athos say.

"Oh yes, yes I do," Victor responded angrily. "He's ruined my life and it's only polite to return the favour don't you think?"  

"We won't allow you to hurt him anymore," Treville stated.

"His boyfriend couldn't stop me, what makes you think you can?"

"What did you do to Porthos?" D'Artagnan asked.

Aramis could hear a tinge of worry in d'Artagnan's voice and his heart sank, he couldn't allow this psycho to get away. He needed this over and done with so they could go find Porthos and make sure he was ok. The problem was they wouldn't shoot as long as he was in the way. He looked up and met d'Artagnan's eyes, hoping that his friend would get the message that he was about to do something extremely stupid.

It worked because d'Artagnan's eyes widened and a look of fear crossed his face. "Aramis... what--"

During the entire conversation between Victor and his friends, Aramis had been testing his bonds. He was elated to find that Victor had wrapped the gauze over the cuffs. It meant Aramis could, with a little manoeuvring, slide his hands underneath the handle of the wheelchair. It left the user wheel-brake just in reach and Aramis wasted no time in pressing down on it, locking the one wheel. It wouldn't prevent Victor from hauling the chair back, but it would take a small amount of effort to move it. It would force the man to lose precious seconds he didn't have because the second Victor's focus was elsewhere none of his friends would hesitate to shoot.

By the time he and d’Artagnan met each other’s eyes, Aramis was putting his plan into action. He wanted to tip the wheelchair over. It would be a difficult feat in and of itself, but if everything worked in his favour it would leave Victor open for a takedown.

Bracing himself as best as he could with his hands tied, Aramis pulled with every bit of strength he had against Victor’s hand in his hair. Victor shouted as he lurched forward, unbalanced by Aramis’ sudden movement. He stumbled into the back of the chair, aiding Aramis’ forward momentum and almost toppled the whole chair over. Bent over and struggling for balance Aramis could do nothing to right himself as the first inklings of panic began to creep upon him. He was going to hit the ground face first unless Victor stopped the wheelchair from falling forward.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out in the hallway and Victor cried out. He fell into the wheelchair upending the entire thing and throwing Aramis from its seat. Aramis’s stomach clenched with the sensation of freefalling. He hit the ground with a thud, the wheelchair landing partially on him, blocking him from seeing his friends and vice versa. He was all twisted from falling, his wrists not broken, but bent at a painful angle.

He could now see where Victor had been shot as blood was blossoming on his chest. Someone had hit him close to his heart, but not close enough because he was still alive, and very angry.

Aramis cried out as another gunshot went off, this time much closer to him. Victor’s eyes widened in sheer panic for a split second and then all life flew out of them. His dead body fell down and over the wheelchair. Aramis screamed in pain when Victor's dead weight pressed the wheelchair into the metal cuffs, slicing his skin. Blood trickled down his arm and through his fingers.

Victor was dead, finally, the second shot had been in the head, dead centre.

It was over.

People raced towards him shouting. Treville removed Victor's body from on top of him. D'Artagnan put a cold, shaking, finger to his throat checking for a heartbeat. Aramis yelped in pain when Athos wrapped his hand around his wrists and undid the gauze tying his hands to the wheelchair. He was pulled into a sitting position, broken leg extended in front of him and the other tucked in close.

“Ar...mis… hear… us?” Athos asked. Aramis watched as Athos unlocked the handcuffs, letting them fall away with a clatter. D'Artagnan took his head and ran his hand through his hair, pulling his face towards him.

"Aramis, are you okay? It's over, Victor's dead."

“Porthos… room… hurt,” he cried out, panting through the waves of pain. The edges of his vision were blackening and he was beginning to shake in earnest. “Cold…”

“He’s going into shock! Get him out of the hallway now!”

He was weightless for a moment as he was lifted onto a bed and raced down the long hallway of the hospital. He could hear the panic in the voices of his fellow co-workers and wondered what the emergency was.


	25. April 6, 2016 - Hospital - Porthos and Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porthos and Aramis spend some time together and Constance and d'Artagnan have a chat.

**April 6, 2016 - Hospital - Porthos and Aramis**

 

The first thing Porthos became aware of when he woke up in the hospital was that he was warm. He was so  _ very _ warm, his chest hurt, his head hurt and he had what felt like a small elephant pinning him down. The elephant was fast asleep, cheeks flushed and feverish as he fought off a low-grade fever. It was amazing how much the stress of that day set his Aramis’ recovery back. Apparently going into shock was almost worse than having your chest sliced open and your brain concussed.

Porthos was looking at a week long stay, at least, in the hospital thanks to Victor's handiwork. He was now wrapped in lovely white bandages to protect the multitude of stitches to his chest. The cut Victor gave him was long and frightening and would need close monitoring for a while. He was grateful, though, that the scalpel hadn't cut too deep into his pectoral muscles or he'd been looking at long term problems. 

Porthos also had a thin bandage encircling his head, thanks to the metal water jug smashing into the side of it. The bruising from the hit was spectacular, spreading across his brow and down the side of his jawbone. He also had a mild concussion that would take a little bit of time to clear up and he was lucky that Victor hadn't cracked his skull. He’d lost quite a bit of blood, but a transfusion replenished some of it and bed rest would take care of the rest. 

The sleeping elephant suddenly whimpered and pulled on Porthos' hospital gown. The elephant snuggled into his side a little bit more, whimpering into Porthos' chest.

“Shhh Aramis, It’s just a dream,” Porthos whispered. He sighed in relief when his elephant calmed down immediately. 

Porthos didn't even want to imagine the nightmares his boyfriend was having. His own dreams were frightening enough for the both of them. All his dreams lately, featured him arriving too late to save Aramis. Basically, any single way that Aramis could die by Victor's hands was a feature in his dreams. 

Porthos still couldn’t remember anything that happened after Victor tossed the cold water in his face. Treville explained to him that Aramis provided a distraction that allowed both himself and Athos to get a clear shot. It was Athos' bullet through the head that sealed the deal on Victor's death.  

The day after Victor died there were a tense few moments in which Aramis vanished. Porthos had woken much like he did today, with a heavy elephant sleeping on him. Having finally been reunited, Aramis refused to leave Porthos' side since Victor died. Seeing no other alternative a bed was wheeled into Porthos' room, which had ample space to accommodate the both of them.

Despite having both beds in the room, Aramis was rarely in his own bed and Porthos wasn’t complaining. It was so nice to have his boyfriend in his arms again, even if the man was sick, stressed out and in his own words, broken. 

The past four days were all about rediscovery for both him and Aramis as he learned about his boyfriend's past. They both avoided any discussion of his most recent ordeal not wanting to trigger any sort of panic attack. 

Porthos apologized for acting so distant in the recent days as well as for abandoning him in the past. Aramis apologized again for keeping secrets and vowed that from this day forward there would be no more secrets between them. 

While the present was off limits the past was not. Porthos listened for hours as Aramis described who he’d been. They talked about his family, how he met Adele and the trouble he caused with Marsac. The subject of his daughter was only touched on lightly because Aramis knew only little bit about her. As they spoke it became clear to Porthos that Aramis wasn’t that different than he was seven years ago. Most of all he found he liked who Aramis used to be, which was helping him fall more in love with the man.

Porthos ran his hand through his boyfriend’s curls eliciting a sigh from him. He'd have to wake Aramis soon, the dead weight of his sleep was pressing his head into his chest wound.

If he were to admit it he was terrified of the long road they had ahead of them. Part of the reason he left Aramis over a year ago was because he felt he couldn’t handle the drama anymore. This time, though, Porthos wasn’t leaving. Having an understanding of what happened was helping immensely and he felt better prepared to handle the long road of recovery ahead. He also knew that deep down Aramis harboured fears that Porthos would leave again. If he was honest with himself, he'd done a poor job of convincing Aramis otherwise. His first order of business was building up the trust between them again. He was going to get them through this. If there was one thing he’d learned with this ordeal, it was that he loved Aramis more than anything in this world. He just had no clue how he was going to go about it fixing things, but he'd figure that out later. He wouldn't lose him again.

As if sensing his internal monologue Aramis frowned in his sleep and snuggled closer to him.

“You think so loud that I can feel it in my sleep,” Aramis said somewhere in the depths of Porthos' chest. “Also I was dreaming I was on an African Safari and we found a herd of elephants.”

Porthos chuckled and then winced in pain as his chest injury reminded him it existed. 

“Pain medication wear off?” Aramis asked. He tried to disentangle himself from Porthos’ after recognising that his weight wasn't helping. It was to no avail as Porthos just pulled him in tighter. “How’d I get to your bed this time? I swear I was in my own bed when I fell asleep.”

“Actually, we’re in yours,” Porthos responded a bit sheepishly. “You looked cold. You don’t feel cold, though, you’re burning up again.”

Aramis let go of Porthos’ hospital gown and felt his own forehead with a frown. “I don’t feel warm,” he stated.

“You're a nurse, you should know it doesn’t work that way,” Porthos laughed. “Let’s call the nurse, but before that, I should get back into my own bed. If Constance is on shift, she’ll murder me for being out of my bed.”

Aramis pressed the button for the intercom, humming in agreement with Porthos. Neither of them, however, made any move to detach themselves from one another.

Once the request for some medicine was in place, Porthos wrapped his arms around Aramis. He sighed oh so very dramatically. “My bed is _so_ _far away_.”

"Well, this isn't helping you get there any faster, Porthos," Aramis mumbled. He laid his head on Porthos' chest and snuggled into his side, not fighting the embrace.

Aramis was beautiful despite his fever bright eyes, his slightly chapped lips and messy brown curls. Porthos always loved the way you could stare into Aramis' dark brown eyes and see the depth of his soul. Aramis wasn't exactly the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, but his boyfriend loved with a passion that knew no boundaries. His personality filled the room and drew people to him like moths to a flame. Porthos wasn't any different, he'd been drawn in so many years ago by that same charm. He felt as though he could gaze at this gorgeous man forever and ever and never have enough.

He ran his hand through Aramis’ hair again, tangling his fingers amongst the strands. His hair crackled with static from the dry air and electrified the room. It was as though a lightning storm was approaching as the pressure increased and extraneous sounds became muted. The air became thin and they both gasped from the sudden charge to the atmosphere.

_ God, those lips…  _ Porthos thought as Aramis’ tongue slipped out and licked them.

Aramis blushed at Porthos' stare, his cheeks that were already reddened with fever became even more vivid in colour. He shivered and broke eye contact as his nerves got the better of him. He could feel the excitement building in his chest, threatening to burst and bubble over. He could feel Porthos lean forward a fraction of an inch like he was being drawn into Aramis. Oh, how he wanted to melt into Porthos’ kisses and touches and never come up for air again. A thousand things began fluttering through his increasingly befuddled mind. Did he deserve this wonderful man? He’d lied and betrayed and hurt and-- He had to stop this train of thought immediately or he’d never come out of this downward spiral. Oh, but his Porthos though. His Porthos with the soft brown eyes and million dollar smile. His love who wore his emotions for everyone to see was looking at him like he was about to devour him whole.

“Porthos,” Aramis choked. He dropped his gaze and trailed his fingertips up Porthos’ arm. It caused Porthos to shiver from head to toe, raising goosebumps all over his body, much to Aramis’ amusement.

“Come here,” Porthos commanded. He cupped the back of Aramis’ neck and encouraged him to raise his face towards his. Aramis scrambled to adjust himself in the bed, sitting up a little straighter.  They were mere inches from one another, noses touching and both breathing heavily in anticipation of what was going to happen next. “Kiss me. Now.”

Aramis smiled and leaned in, his lips ghosting over Porthos’, before pulling back and looking into his eyes. “Is… Is this--”

Aramis was interrupted as Porthos crashed his lips into him, stealing his whimper as his tongue slipped between his teeth. He raised his hands and cupped either side of Aramis’ face. Aramis tasted like sugar and it was so addicting he growled, pressing harder into his mouth. He couldn’t stop kissing him, never wanted to stop ever. Aramis’ hands roamed as though they were unsure of where to rest until they settled on his collarbone.

He could feel his boyfriend's chilled hands shaking through the thin material of the hospital gown. Porthos was overwhelming his feverish elephant and there wasn’t a single part of him that regretted it. He pressed his fingers into the pressure points just behind the ears, making Aramis gasp into his mouth. They parted for just a moment staring at each other in wonder before Porthos claimed his lips again.

When the kiss ended, Porthos pulled back with a laugh. The touch of Aramis' lips had broken something in him and the last of the walls around his heart came crashing down. There was also an easing to the shadows in Aramis' eyes and a softening of the strained muscles in his shoulders.

"That... that was..." Aramis began. He interrupted himself by brushing another soft kiss to Porthos' willing lips. There was still passion surging back and forth between them, but this kiss was soft, tender and slow. It was a kiss of rediscovery after a storm, of the sunshine after a cloudy day. This time the tension eased out of Porthos' shoulders and he went boneless as Aramis continued to kiss him.

For the first time, both of them realized that they would be okay. There was a long road ahead of them, but they would weather it together.

  
  


 

**April 6, 2016 - D’Artagnan’s office - D’Artagnan and Constance**

 

Oh how this chair was heaven, he thought as he snuggled deeper into it. He felt his bullet wound twinge and his arm cringe in pain at the odd angle he was in, but he didn't care. After twelve days in the hospital recovering from blood loss, d'Artagnan had finally been released from the hospital.  Instead of taking his uncle's offer of a ride home to rest, he made a beeline for his office and the ugly chair he was now nestled in. With Aramis and now Porthos in the hospital, thanks to injuries from Victor, there were constant visitors. D'Artagnan just wanted five minutes to himself and didn't think it was too much to ask. He’d been hoping for some peace, quiet, and most of all solitude to let the events of the past few weeks wash over him. 

He was just dozing off when Constance came bounding through the door. She came into the room like a whirlwind, failing to knock and stood in front of him hopping from foot to foot.

“Why are you grinning like that? It's quite frightening,” D’Artagnan sighed. He unfolded himself from the depths of his sofa chair, mourning the loss of his nap.

She must've been waiting for him to ask because she threw her hands up in the air and shouted triumphantly. “THEY WERE KISSING!”

D’Artagnan frowned, she was so loud. “Who was kissing?”

“Aramis and Porthos! I saw them! I went to deliver some meds for them and walked into the room to them kissing,” She sighed dreamily. She clasped her hands together against her chest and twirled on the spot like she was a ballerina. “Oh and it was so  _ romantic _ , d’Artagnan. You should’ve seen them. Porthos had his hands in Aramis’ hair, his fingers caressing his face, eyes closed. Aramis looked boneless in his arms and you could just tell that they felt as though they were the only two people in the entire world.”

She sighed again and twirled a lock of her long red hair around her finger. "I want that kind of kiss."

“Oh good, that means they talked,” d’Artagnan responded.

“That’s it?  _ Oh good, they talked _ . That’s your response to literally the best thing ever?  _ Men _ ," she scoffed.

“I’m elated they worked things out, Constance, I’m just exhausted. I don't want to go home just in case they need me and I don't want to be far from Aramis right now. But I also just want to collapse into a heap and sleep for ages.”

An understanding lit up in Constance’s eyes and she moved closer to d’Artagnan in concern for his health. He hand rested against his forehead for a second before she traced his face to the side of his neck. She tutted at the unnatural warmth of his skin and went to his desk to rifle around for something. 

D'Artagnan nearly whimpered when she touched him. If only she knew how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go, he thought.

It wasn’t a secret around the hospital that d’Artagnan had the hugest crush on Constance.  From the moment she walked through the doors for her first day on the job, D’Artagnan knew she was the one. A fiery, independent, redheaded girl and she was basically perfect in every way possible.

At first, Aramis teased him endlessly over his puppy love and would create every scenario to have them together in the same room. When Constance didn't fall for the bait both Aramis and d'Artagnan gave up, calling it a lost cause. Ever the romantic, D'Artagnan suspected that Aramis was still fueling the gossip. He could almost imagine his friend encouraging the rumours, spreading them and moulding them. 

As Constance prepared a glass of water and some medicine to ease his aches, d'Artagnan couldn't help but watch her. She moved with grace and confidence and he wished that he wasn't so fearful of her turning him down. That would be a blow that he wasn't ready to handle.

Unbeknownst to d’Artagnan the same sorts of thoughts took up all Constance’s daydreams. She'd noticed d'Artagnan much the same way he'd first seen her. She was drawn in immediately to his kind eyes and beautiful smile. She admired his solid friendship with Aramis as well.

Despite the amount of time she spent with d'Artagnan, though, nothing ever happened and she began to believe he didn't like her that way. She told herself that now wasn't the time to have a relationship when she was still new at the hospital. So, Constance left it alone. Though, despite a couple of failed relationships, d'Artagnan was never far from her mind. 

Constance was sure that she wasn't being all that careful, wearing her heart plainly on her sleeve for him to see and still nothing happened. She couldn’t understand how this smart, wonderful, man could be so daft. She wanted to ask him out, but a larger part of her wanted to  _ be asked _ . She'd always wanted to be Cinderella when she was little, whisked off her feet by her Prince.  She knew she was being an idiot and placing a burden at his feet with her expectations, but, oh... to have him whisk her off her feet like she was a princess... I guess now was as good a time as any right? She could just ask now.

“Constance, I wanted--”

“D’Artagnan there is this--”

She whirled around to look at him as they spoke at the same time, staring wide-eyed at each other.

“You go first.”

“No, no, you go, I insist.”

Figuring that he should just plow through this and say what he wanted to say before she shot him down, he stood up and spoke. 

“I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out yet because this place is one giant gossip epicentre with Aramis at its core, but I like you. I think you are breathtaking, intelligent and the most interesting person I know. Will you go out on a date with me?”

Constance gasped, “I thought it was you that was blind to the gossip! Don’t you know I’ve been pining after you since the second you walked into this hospital?” 

D’Artagnan threw his head back and laughed. Of course, they would both be so blind over how the other was feeling. “So you’ll go out with me, on a real, proper date?”

Constance took a moment to answer, hemming and hawing and making a giant production of her answer. D’Artagnan watched her a bit anxiously, knowing she was most likely going to say yes, but could also say no. He was just beginning to regret asking her out when she deigned him with an answer.

“Of course, you idiot, I would love to go out with you!”

D’Artagnan grinned from ear to ear. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air but instead, he cleared his throat and said, “the doctor says I only have to wear the cast for maybe another two weeks before they will put a more mobile cast on. The bullet hole is healing wonderfully, but would you mind waiting a couple of weeks before that date?”

“Of course!”

“Also, I happen to have tickets to a dinner theatre, they are putting on a play called The Three Musketeers. Aramis swears by the old book and actually gave me these tickets ages ago so we could go together.”

“I love dinner theatre!”

D’Artagnan moved a little closer to Constance, took her hand and kissed it, making her blush.

“SQUEE!”

“Did you just squee?” D’Artagnan asked, laughing.

Immediately, Constance’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and she squeaked. “Oh, this… this is incredibly awkward.” She brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear and turning on her heel she raced from the room.

The second the door shut it was d’Artagnan’s turn to squeal like a teenager.

_ I have a date with Constance! _


	26. April 13, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan

**April 13, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan**

 

“If any one of you three so much as move out of this room there will be hell to pay. You’ll find the consequences are quite severe,” Athos drawled. He was standing, hands on his hips, at the entrance to the living room watching the other three men. 

The three of them were a pitiful sight, all sprawled out on the various sofas and chairs. Aramis and Porthos were just released from the hospital that morning. Aramis’ leg was still wrapped in a hard white cast, heavy enough to prevent him from moving far. His fever was gone and he was gaining enough weight to appease the doctors for the time being. 

Porthos was recovering from his injuries quite well. He was experiencing very little after effects of the concussion he was supposed to have. Aramis was taking great delight in teasing his boyfriend about his thick-headedness. Otherwise, the cut across his chest was healing and the stitches would be able to come out soon. 

D’Artagnan had already been released from the hospital a week earlier. He was spending so much time at the hospital trying to work, though, that he’d been physically hauled out and banned for two weeks. 

“On whose authority?” Aramis asked, bringing Athos back to the present.

Athos arched his one eyebrow, staring incredulously at Aramis.  _ Was he really asking this question? _ “Captain Treville’s authority. And mine. While the captain would be enough to keep d'Artagnan and Porthos in line, you, my friend, require a bit more."

“Besides, the last time we left you alone,” continued Athos without regard for what he was saying. “Victor nearly killed you and Porthos. Don't forget you also vanished on us for two and a half weeks.”

To Athos’ horror, Aramis flinched. He couldn’t seem to stop opening his big fat mouth and hurting his friend these days. Thankfully, Aramis recovered fast and was now glaring at him.

“That was hardly my fault!” Aramis protested. 

“And,” cried d’Artagnan. “I’ve been out of the hospital for a week on my own!”

“That’s not true,” Porthos growled. “You’ve been sleeping in your office this entire time.”

“You told me you were going home to sleep!” Athos shouted at d’Artagnan.

“Well, what if you needed me?”

“You have a point,” Aramis said softly. “But I need you feeling better, more.”

D’Artagnan hung his shoulders and managed to look a bit sheepish. “Alright, I concede.”

“Look, guys, I just want everyone back at 100% Especially you, Aramis,” Athos said. Aramis looked up at Athos with wide, bright eyes. Athos knew there was a long road of recovery ahead for his friend and he just wanted everyone to be healthy so they could support Aramis through this. 

“It’s going to be a while before I am feeling normal again,” Aramis said. “I feel bad that I am this burden you all need to care for.”

Porthos frowned and pulled Aramis into his arms, wincing only at the pull of his stitches. “You’re never a burden so get that through your thick skull. We love you.  _ I love you. _ ”

Athos watched Aramis relax into Porthos’ arms and smile at d’Artagnan. 

“So can we please all stay in one place? I am not up for another cross-country search for someone right now,” Athos asked. “I promise you, if one of you goes missing after my explicit orders, I will shoot first and questions later.”

All three men sitting on the sofa nodded.

“Good. Now, do you need anything?”

The three men looked at each other silently conversing before speaking almost all at once.

“I could use my cell phone so I can see if Constance texted me. Oh! A cup of tea would be wonderful too. Also if it’s not too much trouble, the remote for the TV would be amazing. Thanks, Athos,” d’Artagnan said.

“I need my blanket from upstairs, the blue one with the flowers. While you are up there could you also find my Musketeers book?” Aramis requested.

“I’m hungry will you make me food? I want a sandwich but not one of those piddly little sandwiches Aramis makes me, I want double of everything.” Porthos demanded.

“You said you loved my sandwiches!”

Porthos threw his hands into the air. “I do, love, I do. But you never make them like Athos makes them.”

The resulting squawk that Aramis made had d’Artagnan crying in laughter. Athos shook his head, he had no intention of getting any of those things for his brothers. He knew the second he left the room they would all be off the sofa and fending for themselves. So, he smiled and slipped from the room allowing the bickering to fade as he settled into the guest room for a nap.

  
  


**April 14, 2016 - Dr. Kent David’s Psychiatric Office - Aramis and Kent**

 

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the room that was louder than his own heartbeat. He didn’t want to be here. Well,  _ he kind of did, _ because he was the one that called the professor, but he didn’t want to  _ need _ to be here. He didn’t want to  _ be _ in this situation, he didn’t want to have experienced the horrors he experienced and for the first time he found himself wishing that he’d ran off with his daughter and never had met anyone. But, no, then he wouldn’t have Porthos, Athos or even the pesky d’Artagnan who was the one that steered him in the direction of the professor.

Speaking of the professor, the man was sitting across from him writing something on his pad of paper. He’d not said a word beyond requesting to call him Kent and telling him that this was a safe zone. The man was ludicrous.  _ Of course _ this was a safe zone, they were protected by doctor/patient confidentiality. This space, however, this was  _ Kent’s safe space _ . Aramis’ safe place was in Porthos’ arms, but he wasn’t going to burden his boyfriend with the craziness swirling in his mind. 

“You seem cold,” Professor David said.

Aramis ignored him and burrowed deeper into his large cardigan stolen from Porthos’ closet.

“You know that you can say anything, right? I won’t judge,” Kent said softly. When again Aramis chose not to speak, Kent sighed and sat back. “Or we can just sit here and wait out the rest of the hour.”

Aramis nodded and continued staring at the clock. Porthos was waiting outside because he couldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard these days. Not that he blamed anyone, but he just needed some time alone to sort his thoughts out. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t bear to be alone with those same thoughts. He was in between a rock and a hard place.

“You seem agitated,” Kent said.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Aramis snapped back. “I haven’t had a moment alone to myself since being locked up for two and a half weeks.”

_ What the hell was wrong with this man? _

_ “ _ That’s an excellent starting point--” Kent began.

Aramis interrupted, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“It’s alright, Aramis, I’m not here to be your enemy, I am here to help you. In fact, everyone is here to help you in their own way,” Kent said. He leaned back in his chair and began writing on the notepad again. 

“I said that I don’t want to talk about this, can I go yet?”

Kent glanced at the clock and nodded, surprised by how much time had gone by. Aramis wasted no time in grabbing his bag from the ground and racing out, making sure to slam the door on his way out. 

  
  
  


**April 30, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ townhouse - Aramis and d’Artagnan**

 

And so the rest of the month slipped away in endless meetings with Kent. Visits to the doctor’s to assess the healing of his leg and general progress took up another chunk of his time. He was being minded like a child by his brothers, and thus, forced to attend their own health checkups. Porthos was healing well, the stitches were out and concussion symptoms almost gone. Athos and Treville sustained no injuries but still took a couple of weeks off to help the rest recover. D'Artagnan's bullet wound was still tender and he still needed to take it easy, but the cast had come off his arm a day or so ago at least.  

Mostly, though, life was falling into a dull, boring routine. Get up, be fussed over, get dressed, be fussed over, eat and be fussed over. It was driving him mad. 

Athos and Porthos were at work for the first time in weeks. Treville just couldn't give them any more time on their leave of absence. D’Artagnan wasn't quite ready to head back to work yet and spent most of his days with Aramis. It was taxing on everyone of them, Aramis included, but there just wasn’t an easier solution right now. It was how Aramis came to be sitting on the sofa with an overly chipper d’Artagnan, who was determined to cheer him up. All that Aramis wanted, though, was to be left alone... And yet he didn't want to be alone.

“You know, you don’t have to be my babysitter,” Aramis grumbled. He set down the book he was reading down with a thud on the coffee table and stared at d'Artagnan.

“No, you’re right, I don’t. You can  _ clearly _ get around all on your own, can’t you?” D’Artagnan responded. 

“Soon I will…” Aramis said frowning at his leg. At least in a couple of days, the doctor’s were removing the heavy cast on Aramis’ leg. They would be replacing it with a much lighter walking cast which would give Aramis more mobility and maybe a modicum of freedom.

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan continued. “It’s just that right now we all need to be close by, if for nothing else but our own peace of minds. Can you grant us just this one small thing?”

Aramis didn’t answer, he only looked away in frustration. D’Artagnan adjusted himself on the sofa, moving closer to his friend for support.

D'Artagnan knew his friend was chafing at the imprisonment in his townhome, but he also knew Aramis was struggling. His friend wouldn't talk much about his sessions with Professor David but d'Artagnan knew they weren't going well. Aramis often left Kent's sessions more agitated than he'd been when he went in. He was seriously considering speaking to the aged professor to see if there was anything he could do to help. He just didn't want to go behind Aramis' back to do it and he knew his friend would object. If things didn't improve soon, though, he was going to have no choice but to interfere. 

“I know we keep saying this over and over, but we love you Aramis," d'Artagnan said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "You’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without you. We know you went through a horrible ordeal and I can see you struggling. But while this doesn’t even begin to compare to your experience, we lost you for two and a half weeks. There were so many instances where we hit dead ends and we didn't even know if you were already dead..." 

D'Artagnan shivered at the last thought, not wanting to relive those horrible nights. "Then we finally get you back and it-- it just doesn't feel like you're back," he paused and shook his head. "I know I'm not making any sense. I know how this goes, though. I've seen people go through traumatic experiences but seeing you go through this... It's different. I feel like I'm floundering and that I'm failing you." 

"D'Artagnan," Aramis started.

D'Artagnan didn't hear him immediately, though. He swallowed thickly and continued speaking. "It's just that seeing you the way you are now with no sparkle in your eyes, frayed nerves, jumpy... It just… I mean… "

He was stopped from going any further by a warm hand on his knee. “It’s okay d’Artagnan, come here.” Aramis pulled him into his arms and held him close.

“You can’t ask me to leave so soon after I just found you,” d’Artagnan sobbed.

Guilt raged through Aramis' veins as d'Artagnan wrapped his arms around him. He knew he was being belligerent, selfish and rude and he also knew he needed to stop it. He was struggling, that much he would admit. He could see that he was acting out but was powerless to stop it. 

He took a deep, shaking breath. D’Artagnan’s breakdown was overwhelming and he was seconds away from bawling his own eyes out. He couldn't handle sudden changes in anyone's temperament right now. How was he supposed to continue on this way?

“I won’t make you leave d’Artagnan, in fact, you aren’t allowed to leave me. I know I’m being a dick and honest to God, I don’t actually mean most of the stuff I say, but please bear with me a little longer.”

D’Artagnan pulled out of Aramis’ arms, wiping away his tears and smiling. “I plan on  _ bearing _ with you for as long as you need me too and then some. I’m not easy to get rid of.”

Aramis sniffled, not realizing he'd returned d'Artagnan's embrace. He shoved his face into the man's shoulder for comfort and was rewarded with an even tighter hug.

"You seem to be struggling with professor David?”

“Yeah, it's going slowly and without much success,” Aramis responded.

“What’s the hold up?”

“I’m having a hard time talking about what happened…”

“I understand, it’s hard to relive traumatic events. Look how many of the parents of our sick kids can’t manage to just talk with each other. It’s hard for them," d'Artagnan explained. "They feel alone.”

“If they'd just talk to each other, they'd realize their situations are almost the same. They'd see they aren't alone in it."

“Just like  _ you _ aren’t alone, Aramis. Just talk to the professor about whatever first comes across your mind. Trust that he will steer you in the right direction.”

Aramis sighed. D'Artagnan was right of course, he did need to let Kent in. His cheeks reddened as he realized how rude he'd been to the man the last few sessions. 

“No, hey, Aramis… don’t be ashamed. Everyone needs help once in a while,” d’Artagnan soothed.

“No,” Aramis said softly. "No, it's not that. I'm just realizing I've been a horrible person to you guys lately.'

"Then stop," d'Artagnan said.

Aramis laughed, "You make it sound so simple, you know that? Like I could flip a switch and be happy. I suppose that's why I'm seeing Kent and why you people won't leave me alone. I'm scattered, a bit broken and everyone is holding a piece of me, waiting for me to retrieve it."

D'Artagnan made a giant show of reaching into his pocket and handing something invisible to Aramis. "Well, you can have my piece back. It's the piece that allows you to open up to Kent and start the conversation."

Aramis smiled and stared at his empty hand for a moment, before closing his hand and holding it to his heart. "Thank you, my friend, this means the world."


	27. May 3, 2016 - Aramis and Porthos’ Townhouse - Aramis and Porthos

**May 3, 2016 - Aramis and Porthos’ Townhouse - Aramis and Porthos**

  
  


“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked Aramis as he came out of the shower one morning.

Aramis was sitting on the edge of the bed still wearing his pyjama pants, hair askew in ways that defied gravity and was wearing a massive scowl on his face. The doctor had recently replaced the hard white cast with a much lighter, more mobile, walking cast. Though, with any luck, Aramis wouldn’t need to be wearing it much longer. The object of Aramis’ scowl wasn’t the broken leg but the crutches lying on the floor out of his reach.

“Have the crutches offended you?” Porthos asked. He went and picked them up, propping them against the bed close to Aramis.

“No,” Aramis responded in a curt manner. “Professor David said today was the day I was visiting the hospital.”

“Well, that’s easy! You’ve been there before plenty of times and recently too.”

Aramis sighed, “I have to go to the emergency room.”

“And how is that a thing worth the great scowl of 2016?” Porthos asked. “You can do this. It’ll be a walk in the park compared to what has happened to you in these past seven years.”

He just didn’t want to talk about it. Couldn’t they let him lay his past to rest?

“He says I need to gain my independence, that you I can't expect you all to walk on eggshells around me for the rest of my days.”

It was Porthos’ turn to sigh. “He’s not entirely wrong,” he reasoned. “I’ll take care of you and continue to do so for as long as you’ll allow me. I also don’t intend for this to make you feel like you are a burden, but you do have to take a step forward or you won’t get better.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Porthos responded. He walked over to Aramis and knelt down in front of him meeting his scowl with one of his own. “You’ve come so far in only a few sessions, don’t halt that progress now. Besides, d’Artagnan said he was going with you to the emergency room didn’t he?”

Aramis nodded and leaned forward pressing his forehead into Porthos’. “It’s just that… I mean… The last time I was there, I was… I mean what if… what if…” Aramis trailed off with a slight tremor in his voice.

There it was, thought Porthos. The reason why Aramis refused to set foot in the emergency room. It was because there was some innate fear that he was going to be taken again. While Porthos understood his reasons for being terrified of that, the fact of the matter was Victor and Isabelle were both dead. There wasn’t anyone left holding that kind of vendetta over his Aramis anymore.

“Oh Aramis,” Porthos said softly. “No, don’t be afraid of that. It’s only a space in a hospital where people go looking for help.”

“But what if I lose you?”

“I am not going anywhere, in fact, I’ll wait outside just in case. Would that help?”

Aramis shivered. He knew he was being irrational about this, but fear was an irrational thing wasn’t it? Professor David had been working through these fears one at a time with him and he knew he was getting better. The first major hurdle was going to be facing his abduction. Then all the rest of the pieces would begin falling into place if he could just begin to accept he was safe. Victor was dead, Isabelle was dead, and the multitude of people helping them was either behind bars or dead as well. There wasn’t anything to be fearful of anymore.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes please, it would help if you were outside. Don’t come in, though, I need to do this on my own.”

“Good,” Porthos nodded. “Now get up, get dressed and meet me downstairs. It’s time you got used to getting around with those crutches.”

  
  


**May 5, 2016 - Professor David’s Office - Aramis and Kent**

 

"How was the trip to the emergency department?" Professor David asked as he escorted Aramis into his sparse but comfortable office.

Aramis smiled nervously. This place always gave him the creeps, even having been here several times already. He knew that this was a safe zone and that he could talk about anything he wanted to in here, but it still lent itself an air of nervousness. While it was the place he could speak about anything, it was also the place that he was going to  _ have  _ to speak about things eventually.

"Well, I wasn't abducted so I'm taking that as a win," He said.

Kent grinned and sat down in his brightly coloured sofa chair. "There's that I suppose."

"That's exactly what d'Artagnan said too." Aramis placed his bag down beside him on the floor and settled into the sofa across from David. “Porthos came with us, though he stayed outside for my peace of mind. D’Artagnan took me to the children’s ward after and we visited with the children. It was good to see them again.”

“Good, good, you’ve been making such good progress. Do you think you are ready to finally speak about what happened a few weeks ago?” Professor David said once they were comfortable in their respective chairs.

Aramis flinched and curled into himself. His heart began beating faster in panic.  _ No, no he didn’t want to talk about any of that yet. He wasn’t ready... _

Kent frowned. He’d been so sure that a trip to the place of Aramis' abduction would trigger something in his brain, making it easier for the man to realize that he was safe now. He needed to come up with another tactic to get him speaking. He watched as Aramis began to shiver and pull his thick sweater around his still too thin frame.

He noticed that every time Aramis was uncomfortable about something, he would get cold. It seemed to be a defence mechanism his mind had created to help him feel safe. Kent had also been told about the conditions Aramis had was kept in and knew that the man hated being cold. If they could just move past the subconscious barriers that Aramis had created in his mind about those couple of weeks, that his recovery would come a lot faster. Maybe then his body would give up on the fake cold he was feeling. 

"Alright, let's try something new today. You mentioned before that you were afraid of enclosed spaces and managed to overcome it. How?"

Aramis grew uncomfortable immediately, just like every time he was forced to think about what happened to him only a few weeks ago. Though it wasn't something to pride himself on, Aramis was becoming an expert on deflection, avoiding anything related to being Isabelle's and Victor's prisoner. Just thinking of them made his skin prickle in warning and his leg ache in pain that he knew wasn't really there.

He didn't even notice he'd pulled his sweater in closer and huddled into himself until Kent laid a hand on his shoulder. He was grateful the man had seen his sudden downward spiral and pulled him out of it before he lost it.

"Overcoming a fear isn't an easy task, Aramis. Not only do you need to want to overcome the fear, but you need to figure out what makes the fear so terrifying. You also need to overcome your body’s and mind's habit of reacting to it," Kent continued. He was trying to calm Aramis down enough so that he could hopefully understand what he was saying. "Studies have shown that there is a great success in Exposure and Immersion Therapy."

"I was certainly exposed and immersed in an enclosed space," Aramis responded in a bitter tone. "I’ve done this before, Kent, only in safe, controlled environments. I have never been able to overcome this fear. But this time it was different, I had no choice."

Kent nodded, this was going extremely well. "That's because you were abducted and held against your will for something you had no control over. Let’s try a different angle, can you describe your environment there?"

"You... You want me to describe the environment?" Aramis asked. He pulled his sweater even closer around his torso. He was so cold all the time.

"Yes, I do. Was it cold, damp or dark? Was anyone else ever down there with you? If you really have overcome your fear of enclosed spaces you shouldn't have any trouble explaining the environment." Kent answered in a serious tone.

And just like that Aramis realized what the professor was doing. The man had given him a way to talk about some of his ordeals from a different viewpoint. It didn't have to be about Isabelle and Victor keeping him in some cold, dank cell where the walls closed in on him. It was about him making the best of a shitty situation and finding hope in the face of overwhelming odds against him. He had absolutely no choice to get over his fear of enclosed spaces otherwise he wouldn’t be sane enough to be worth rescuing.

"That was a sneaky thing you just did," Aramis said, a small smile gracing his lips. He loosened the sweater that was firmly wrapped around him, feeling a little warmer.

Professor David grinned and sat back in his sofa chair. "Don't thank me yet kid, we've got a long way to go. But congrats on your first real breakthrough. Now, I assume it was cold down there by the way you continue to huddle in your sweater every time we broach this subject, but what else can you tell me?”

“It… It was underground and the floor was mostly dirt…” Aramis began.

  
  
  
  


**May 17, 2016 - Professor David’s office - Aramis and Kent**

  
  


“You’ve mentioned before that a friend of yours you thought died in the fire, is alive?” Kent asked.

“Yeah, Marsac,” Aramis responded. “He and I grew up together, he was the best man at Adele’s and my wedding.”

“How did he survive the fire?”

Even after speaking about it so freely with Kent, hearing the words ‘the fire’ still gave Aramis chills. He suspected that those kinds of feelings would never really go away.

“We knew the ceiling was going to come down any second, Marsac ran for the back of the church and I ran for the front after hearing someone scream. I didn’t know until last month that Marsac survived, I thought he was dead all these years.”

“Knowing your best friend was alive, why didn’t you follow him out of the church?” Kent asked.

Aramis shuddered as he imagined abandoning Ninon to her death and running out with Marsac. If he’d run out the back he would never have saved Ninon, found Adele and saved their daughter. If given the choice would he alter his course?

“Someone was screaming, they needed my help and I couldn’t abandon them. I wouldn’t change what I did for anything,” Aramis said.

“Even if it meant a better life than the one you’ve been leading?”

Aramis bristled immediately. How could this man say his life wasn’t amazing?

“My life is amazing, I have Porthos and an awesome job doing what I love. I have Treville, Athos and d’Artagnan and I have a…” Aramis managed to stop himself before he revealed his daughter. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kent, but Renee was a secret he was planning on keeping from him until Ninon called and confirmed everything was okay.

“A what?” Kent prodded.

Aramis snuggled into the sweater he was wearing again. He refused to answer Kent’s prompt and earned a sigh from the man. “Fair enough, I’ll let that drop for the moment. Let’s switch back to the original line of conversation for today. Marsac, he’s alive, but sick, correct?”

Aramis nodded. “Yes, Athos says he’s dying of cancer.”

“Have you been to see him yet?” Kent asked.

"No…” Aramis whispered. He knew he should go see his friend, he knew the man wanted to speak to him. Plain and simple, though, Aramis was scared. Could he face Marsac again knowing that he was truly going to die this time? Could he handle the loss a second time? Would Marsac forgive him...

“You should. To let him  _ ‘die’ _ a second time without seeing him would be a regret and this time one that is irreversible.”

“What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Aramis asked. He looked directly at professor David with tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

Kent leaned forward and took Aramis’ hands into his own. “I don’t think he’s going to hate you and one thing you need to understand is that you are not to blame for not knowing he was alive. You are not to blame for any of this. This was the work of two people who may have been beyond help. This. Isn’t. Your. Fault. Understand?”

Aramis nodded, “So I need to go see Marsac.”

“I think it will be good for you,” Kent said. “You’ll actually get to say goodbye to someone. It doesn’t lessen the hurt, but does wonders for closure.”

  
  
  


**May 18, 2016 - Athos’ house - Aramis and Athos**

 

“I adore the friendship between Lulu and Maxie,” Athos said. Both he and Aramis were watching an episode of General Hospital from his PVR. Aramis had a couple of weeks worth of various soap operas to catch up on and it was Athos’ day to occupy him. Or as Aramis called it, babysit him. Since he knew his friend was going crazy at his own home, he’d decided to pick Aramis up and bring him back to his house for some tv watching. Besides, his PVR was getting a little full of episodes and the situation was becoming dire. Heaven forbid the PVR gets too full and they miss something because it didn’t record.

“Mmmm,” Aramis responded.

Athos frowned. Aramis’ response wasn’t that of someone who was agreeing or even paying attention. He looked over at his friend to see him staring out the window lost in thought. He decided to try to gain Aramis’ attention once more.

“What do you think of Alexis’ continuous battle to save Julian? I think Sam is right that he’s never going to change…” He trailed off in failure when Aramis didn’t even acknowledge he said anything.

Deciding to try another tactic Athos grabbed the remote from his hands and shut the tv off.

“Athos what the hell, I was watching that!”

“Yes, I could see that. What did you think about Jason dying?” Athos asked crossing his arms.

Aramis’ eyes widened in shock, “What! Jason died? How?”

“He didn’t, he saved Dante. You haven’t been watching and something is bothering you. You know you can talk to me any time you need,” Athos said.

“How could you!” Aramis responded. He placed his hand over his heart and took a deep breath. “Jason has been around for ages, death by a crash would be such a horrible send off. Insulting, even. Like, his death should be at the hands of Helena or something even more grandiose!”

“Sorry…” Athos sat back down and turned on the TV again, content that he’d refocussed Aramis’ attention.

It was silent until the end of the episode when Athos was able to delete the final episode of that soap opera from his PVR. He was just about to turn to his friend to ask if he needed anything when Aramis spoke.

“I finally told Kent about what happened during those two and a half weeks,” Aramis began.

This was welcome news to Athos and he tried hard not to overreact to Aramis’ confession. He’d been hoping for a while now that his friend would open up to one of them and find it easier to speak of his ordeal.

“I can tell you are dying to ask what happened,” Aramis smiled nervously. “You forget I know you just as well, my friend. Go on, ask away. Kent said I needed to speak to someone about it. He said it would get easier each time.”

“I… I just,” Athos began, unsure of what he wanted to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a million questions about what happened, no it was that he realized what happened wasn’t his right to know first. “No I don’t really have any questions right now, besides it should be Porthos you tell, but just know that I am here if you need me.”

Aramis nodded and continued, “Kent also told me I needed to go see Marsac. You guys saw him, how did he look? What if he hates me? Blames me for not looking for him?”

Athos sat up in the chair and looked towards Aramis. “First of all none of this was your fault, you have to understand that.”

Aramis ran his hand through his hair. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

“That’s because we are  _ obviously _ right. Secondly, trust me on this, Marsac doesn’t blame you for not looking for him. He thought you were dead for all these years and came straight to us once he found out you were alive.”

“But if I’d just told someone about what happened, people might still be alive,” Aramis responded.

“If ifs and buts were candies and nuts…”

Aramis laughed, “Yes, yes, it would be a Merry Christmas. I get it, I do, I just wonder how changed everything would be if I'd been more forthcoming."

"Who knows... but would you really take the chance on changing the past without knowing the outcome of the present? What if it was worse?”

“What if it was better?”

“A fair argument,” Athos agreed. “But without knowing, would you risk it? Would you risk the chance that Porthos chooses not to remain with you? Not meeting d’Artagnan?”

“I guess not. No, no I wouldn’t, you’re right.”

They settled on the sofa again, Aramis extending his healing leg across the length forcing Athos to scoot further down. “I wish I could take this off and scratch every inch of skin. This is my greatest wish in life.”

Athos snorted, “You’re on your own for that one, I’m not getting in trouble for any set backs by taking that cast off. That’s all on you.”

“I’ll just make the doctor do it at my next appointment. He wants to make sure that it’s healing properly and adjust some of the straps.”

“I thought you got that done last week?” Athos asked. He was sure that Porthos had mentioned needing to drive Aramis to the clinic last week to have his cast looked it. Something about one of the velcro straps refusing to stay done up.

As if reading his mind, Aramis twisted his leg to the side revealing a safety pin holding the strap to the cast. “I was supposed to but Dr Bonacieux, Constance’s brother, had a last minute opportunity to take his family for a vacation. He has the cutest kids, Athos! Constance is sure lucky to have them close by so she can see her nephews.”

At the mention of kids Athos suddenly realized the one question he did have for Aramis. He’d been very cautious to not pester, but after a month and a half of searching, they’d still not located Ninon. Aramis would tell him if he’d heard from her right?

“That reminds me,” he said. “Have you heard from Ninon yet?”

Aramis ran his hands through his curls and shook his head. “No and I know I told everyone to let her come home on her own, but I’m beginning to worry. She should’ve made contact by now… You don’t think something happened?”

Athos’ heart sank at the worry he could hear in Aramis’ voice. If Aramis was concerned that there’d been no contact then it was imperative that they find Ninon. He just hoped they wouldn’t find her in any other condition but safe.

“You don’t think Victor could’ve gotten to her?” Aramis asked timidly.

“I don’t know…”

“We need to find her, Athos. It’s been too long.”

Relief spread through Athos’ veins. They’d been trying to convince Aramis for weeks that he needed to help them find Ninon. His friend had brushed off their worries every time, telling them that Ninon would contact him when she felt safe enough to do so.

“We’ve figured out that sometime during your captivity Victor left France and flew to England. He checked into a hotel near to where Ninon and her husband Clarence live. He stayed no more than one night before flying back to France.”

“I  _ thought _ he vanished for a bit there, but I was so consumed with the thought I’d lost Porthos that my memories are unreliable,” Aramis responded. “I wasn’t lying to you before, I don’t know where Ninon would go. It was all part of our plan to protect each other. If either of us had to run the other didn’t know where so that we’d have plausible deniability. The flaw that I’ve only come to realize now, is that we didn’t have a plan to contact each other within a specific frame of time.”

Athos sighed, visibly disappointed in what Aramis was saying. “Well, I admit that I am slightly discouraged by that, but just knowing that we have your blessing to continue looking for her, sets my mind at ease.”

“I’m sorry, Athos,” Aramis said. His shoulders dropped and he hung his head in shame. 

“Nothing to be sorry about. Now shall we see what the Brady clan is up to on Days of Our Lives?”

Aramis perked up immediately and nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

 


	28. May 19, 2016 - Palliative Continuing Care Centre - Aramis and Marsac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me ages to write, no matter what I did I couldn't get Aramis into the room to see Marsac.   
> Thanks Tazzyjan for reading all 18 thousand re-workings of this chapter and telling me each time to just keep going.

**May 19, 2016 - Palliative Continuing Care Centre - Aramis and Marsac**

  
  


Hobbling down the long halls of the continuing care centre, Aramis had the thought that Marsac was too young to be here. He was only in his early thirties, surely that was too young to be at the end of one’s life? Cancer was such a horrible thing, taking people hostage and sometimes never letting them go.

Marsac’s room was at the end of the hall on the top floor because of course, it would be, it was just his luck. Aramis nearly wept in relief when he spied the elevator. Just because they’d switched him to a walking cast didn’t mean that climbing stairs was an easy task. He was healing well from his undernourishment, but he couldn't shake the weakness in his limbs. They trembled with exertion as he made his way down the hall.

In the past few weeks, Treville had been keeping Aramis updated on the whereabouts of Marsac and what was happening with him. Since coming to meet with Athos and Porthos at the police precinct, Marsac’s health had been declining. He was grateful that Treville had taken Marsac under his wing and was helping his friend out because goodness knows he’d not been such a good friend since he discovered Marsac was alive.

God, Marsac dying at 32… Just as he got him back, he was losing him all over again. It wasn’t fair. Second chances were supposed to be good things!

 

“ _ Your life would be duller without my presence in it, my friend _ .”

 

Oh and how his life was so much duller. Aramis was ashamed to admit that he’d been putting off this visit ever since getting out of the hospital. He'd been avoiding leaving the house because he wasn't ready to leave its safety and then there was always an excuse to avoid visiting his friend. In reality, Aramis was afraid that he wasn’t going to be able to handle seeing his friend again. The man was supposed to be dead, he’d mourned his loss for years, how was he supposed to do this all over again? ‘ _ You never knew what you had until you lost it _ ’ was an apt saying, but to regain what you lost and then lose it again was nearly unbearable.

Aramis pressed the button to the elevator and waited. Once it had reached the main floor Aramis moved to get on it. It was slow going at first and the elevator was an impatient thing. It tried several times to close it’s doors on him, finally catching the leg of one crutch nearly sending him to the floor. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Aramis made it onto the  _ possessed _ elevator and pressed the button to the correct floor. He hobbled to the corner and propped his shoulder on one of the glass walls.

Now that he was here and on his way to see Marsac memories of the last time he saw his friend began assaulting him. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to force them all back. This was too much. This was all too damn much. But, he thought to himself, his too much was nothing compared to Marsac’s too much. In all this Aramis wasn’t dying, Marsac was and he needed to remember that. No matter how horrible his situation seemed, Marsac's was much worse.

 

_ I promise I will bring him back alive and unharmed _ .

 

Those fateful words said to Adele as Marsac pulled him from the room and the last time he’d laid eyes on Adele alive. Marsac had saved Aramis that night, even if he may not have known that for seven years.  It was like Marsac was a writer, writing the story of their lives and he’d foreshadowed their fate. Did those words haunt Marsac like they were now doing to him?

Finally, he reached the appropriate floor and the elevator doors slid open, emitting Aramis with only a little bit of struggle. He growled at the cursed elevator and turned to walk down the hallway. It was quiet up here, but that also could’ve been because it was mid-afternoon and mandatory rest time. Now that he was this close to seeing his old friend, Aramis was beginning to become nervous. What would he look like? Would he recognize his friend? Was he the same old Marsac, chasing the ladies and living life wildly or would Good Friday 2009 have changed him?

 

_ I’m sorry I wasn’t around more often during this past year, Rene _

 

It was Aramis’ turn to apologize for that very same thing, but how do you say that you’re sorry for letting someone think you were dead? Why didn’t he look for Marsac, Aramis cursed. Even if Kent and his friends told him it wasn’t his fault and that he couldn’t have known, it still fell on Aramis’ shoulders. He couldn’t have known, but he  _ should’ve _ known.

He arrived at a small nurse's station set in the centre of the hallway and rested for a moment against the counter. Thankfully there was no one there to witness his gasp for breath. He really needed to get back into shape, this was ridiculous. After having taken a moment to rest, he secured the crutches under his arms and swung towards the end of the hallway.

He passed many rooms, some with their doors open, but most with the doors closed. Each of the rooms with open doors was decorated by the occupant to feel like home. Pictures littered the rooms, personal bed linens covered the beds and vases of flowers covered tables. It seemed like a wonderful place to stay except for the fact that they were coming here to die, which in itself was a sobering thought.

Finally, Aramis was standing outside of Marsac’s room. The door was only open a sliver and the view Aramis did have of the room didn’t show much of anything. It was so quiet inside that Aramis was trying to determine if he should come back later when the door opened and one of the nurses slipped out. She was an older woman but strikingly beautiful and exactly the type Marsac used to chase after.

“I am so sorry!” She said and nodded to Marsac’s door. “You here to see him?”

Aramis nodded, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him…”

“Oh! He doesn’t get many visitors, a few acquaintances and the captain of the police force,” She explained. “He’s going to be so pleased to have someone other than us nurses to chat to. You go straight on in and ignore his attitude, he’s grumpy today.”

She opened the door wide and announced to Marsac he had a visitor.

“I don’t want to be bothered Violette,” A voice from somewhere in the room said.

Violette ignored him and ushered Aramis in before leaving to go back to the nurse's station. “Too late, hun, he’s already in the room.”

Aramis let the door shut behind him before going further into the room. There was a privacy curtain drawn shut cutting the room in half and he paused nervously. Should he announce himself before brushing the material aside, or after.

“There’s a window on the other side of that curtain and I can see your silhouette through the curtain. Also, I can hear your heavy breathing, which frankly, is quite creepy. You may as well come in seeing as you are technically already in,” Marsac said in an annoyed voice.

Aramis took a deep breath and pushed the curtain out of the way. Marsac was sitting near the window curled up in a sofa chair, covered under a thick blanket with a book in his lap. His hair was still long like Aramis remembered and he was wearing his old pair of reading glasses. He looked thin and tired but every bit the Marsac he used to know. Upon seeing his old best friend tears welled up in Aramis' eyes and he couldn't prevent a few from leaking over onto his cheeks. It was taking everything he had in him to not start bawling where he stood.

“Marsac,” he dared whisper.

Even after the invite into his space, Marsac was slow to look up at who his intruder was. Of all the people he expected to visit him, he hadn’t expected Rene. He’d known that they’d found his friend over a month ago, thanks to Captain Treville keeping him updated. He hadn’t expected any kindness from Rene’s friends and was pleasantly surprised when Treville reached out to him. Treville had kept him in the loop about the search for Rene and visited him often since he’d been here. He'd called the night after they found Rene and again when he'd woken up a week later. As the days passed without a visit, Marsac began to come to terms with the fact that Rene might not want to visit him. Treville kept explaining that Rene needed to get better and stronger before his friend could visit.

At the sound of Rene's voice, Marsac gasped and dropped the book from his lap. “Rene,” he said with a gasp. “You came.”

His friend was standing beside the bed with his crutches, broken leg resting gingerly on the floor and tears running down his cheeks. Rene looked stressed out, but oh so wonderfully alive.

Aramis used his crutches to move himself to the side of the bed where he sat down with a sigh. “Of course I did, how could you think I wouldn't? I’m sorry it took so long… I-- I wanted nothing to do with what happened. I didn’t want to remember.”

“And now?” Marsac asked.

“I’m still not ready to talk about it as if it were a casual thing,” Aramis said, his voice shaking.

“Well,” Marsac began. “It’s a good thing that I don’t care what happened. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes. Oh, Rene, I thought you were dead!”

Aramis gasped and shivered. “I thought you were dead too… seven years Marsac! How can I even begin to ask your forgiveness?”

“Whatever would you need to ask my forgiveness for? It’s me that should be apologizing! I shouldn’t have run out the back of the church like a coward. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Marsac sat up in his chair and leaned into Rene. Part of him was worried that his friend would deny him forgiveness, that he’d stand up and hobble back out the door and never return.

“I should’ve looked for you, Marsac,” Aramis sobbed. “I would never change saving Ninon, but I regret not looking for you.”

"I shouldn't have abandoned you, though, running away like that, leaving you to your death. What kind of friend is that?"

 

_ “Marsac I am not leaving anyone alive behind if I can help it. Let me go.” _

_ “I am not going with you…” _

 

"You made your choice and I made mine," Aramis said. "I don't think either of them were wrong decisions."

"Wrong choice or not, it's haunted me my entire life. I thought I'd have to take this all-consuming guilt with me to my grave. I never expected to get a second chance."

Aramis' shoulders slumped. "It's haunted mine too... I'm sorry, my friend. I had no clue, back then, that this was the work of Victor and Isabelle. To think this was all because of some vendetta against me because I chose Adele."

As Rene wiped the tears from his cheeks, it became obvious to Marsac that if they continued this way it would be a never ending circle of apologies. They were both being idiots, wasting the precious little time he had left apologizing for things out of their control. “Alright, this is getting us nowhere. I forgive you, you forgive me. Blah blah blah. We have to stop this.”

Rene looked sheepish as he sniffled. “Ok.”

Marsac stood up and wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tight. “Now,” Marsac said once they broke apart. He settled back into his chair and looked at Rene. “What the hell have you been up to for seven years? I see you're still a nurse. You have a very frightening boyfriend, by the way.  But Aramis?  What kind of name is Aramis?”

“ It's a play on the name of the musketeer Henri d'Aramitz in the Three Musketeers nove l,” Aramis responded. "And Porthos isn't frightening!"

Marsac raised his eyebrows incredulously. Porthos terrified him that day in the precinct. No matter how much Treville tried to convince him that Rene’s boyfriend was a giant loveable teddy bear, he was never going to believe it.

“He was only worried about where I was, he really is the sweetest thing in the-- Ok fine. He can be a little over the top when he’s worried. That’s all I’ll concede. You should get to know him, though, he’s an integral part of my life and I wouldn’t be complete without him in it.”

It was obvious that Rene loved Porthos. When his friend spoke of the detective, his shoulders relaxed and the tension in his muscles melted away. There was a warmth in his eyes and love in his voice. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Rene.”

“It took a long time. I was broken after the fire, going through the motions if you will, you couldn't even call it living. Each day it became easier and easier to become Aramis and pretend Rene didn’t exist, pretend that I was this whole new person untouched by tragedy. I’m a horrible liar, though, everyone I’ve surrounded myself with saw right through my walls. They may not have known what happened, but they still saw I was holding myself back from something.”

“Why did you create Aramis? You were never someone who would protect himself over others, so what is it that forced you to vanish,” Marsac asked. It was a burning question in his mind every since he saw his friend’s face on the news. What reason would Rene have to need to hide his real identity?

Aramis flinched. He’d known this question was going to be asked. Everyone who didn’t already know was asking him the same thing, why did you do this? But of all the people asking, Marsac was the one person that deserved to know.

“I was protecting someone…”Aramis said softly. If his leg wasn’t broken he would’ve stood up and paced back and forth, instead he twisted his hands together to keep himself from fidgeting. “Look, you have to understand, Ninon and I thought there were serial killers after us. At that moment we felt that it was our only course of action.”

“Yes, but Ninon is a big girl, she was able to look after herself,” Marsac responded.

Aramis sighed. Nothing about this conversation was going well so he may as well spit the truth out. “No, not Ninon, my daughter.”

“Your what now?”

“My daughter…” For the next short bit, Marsac sat staring at Aramis, his mouth agape, as he told the story of what happened the night of the fire. Aramis found as he told the story again that it was becoming easier for him to relay the horrific night. He was even finding it a bit cathartic as the words spilled from him.

It was silent for a long time after Aramis’ confession and he was just beginning to become worried about what Marsac would say when the man spoke.

“Wow… Rene. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to help. If I had only looked to see if you were alive, maybe things would've been different.”

Aramis shook his head. “No, by sunrise the next morning I was already Aramis. To the public, everyone died in the fire that night and other than the few who know the truth now, it’s best kept a secret. For now anyways. Nothing Ninon and I did that night outright broke any laws, but we sure skirted the edge. I'm sure the truth will come out someday, but for now, no one needs to know about my daughter.”

“You have my word that I won’t say anything. I’ll take this secret to my grave,” Marsac said with a grin.

Aramis couldn’t help but laugh at the horrible joke. “That’s in poor taste, my friend.”

"What did you name your daughter?" Marsac asked.

"Renee Adele d'Herblay. She carries the last name Clerbeaux since Ninon's husband adopted her, but on her birth certificate, it's d'Herblay. Ninon refused to have it any other way."

Marsac smiled. "That's a beautiful and fitting name, Adele would be proud."

"I hope so..."

  
In the end, Aramis and Marsac spent a couple more hours chatting as though nothing had changed. As though there wasn't seven years and some horrific trauma between them. Each of them had forgiven each other and another burden was removed from Aramis’ shoulders.


	29. June 15, 2016 - Hospital Physiotherapy - Aramis and Athos

**June 15, 2016 - Hospital Physiotherapy - Aramis and Athos**

  


“How’s the leg feeling?” Athos asked after the third attempt at Aramis putting pressure on the limb.

Aramis sat heavily in the chair and paused to assess. It ached more than outright stabbing pain. It was stiff and useless below the knee, but the cast was off and he could put light pressure on it. This was by far more preferable to hobbling around with crutches.

“It’s… functional.” Was the only thing Aramis could think of saying in the end. “At least it will be soon enough, just gotta keep working it.”

“That’s a very positive outlook, Aramis,” Athos said. He took Aramis under the arm and helped him stand again. “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear the happiness in your voice again. One more time with the cane and then we can call it a day on this.”

Sweat beaded on Aramis’ forehead from exertion as he attempted to take a step with the cane that would be his constant companion for a long while. He felt silly most days for needing to be in physical therapy. It wasn’t like he’d lost the use of his limbs or had a spinal injury and needed to relearn how to walk. He’d only had his leg broken. Aramis tested a bit more weight than he was approved for and hissed as his hip disapproved of being put to use. He tried to compensate by tossing a bit of his weight on his good leg and wobbled dangerously.

“Are you trying to tell me I am dull and depressing, Athos?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” Athos drawled. He caught Aramis before he could topple over and helped settle him back down on the chair. “You’re trying to push too hard, the cast has only been off for a few days.”

Aramis sighed as Athos returned the cane to the rack on the wall and brought back his hated crutches. “I know. I feel bad that it’s been more than two months and I still need help…”

“Well stop pushing so hard, you went through a difficult ordeal and helping you is our pleasure.”

Aramis fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, analyzing what Athos said, before nodding in agreement. He took the crutches from Athos and lifted himself out of the chair.

Of all of the issues, Dr David was working with Aramis on, accepting help from his friends was surprisingly one of the harder ones. As Kent pointed out recently, even though he’d surrounded himself with amazing people the last seven years, he’d still kept them at arm’s length. Now he found himself humbled by the generosity of the people he knew. He was slowly learning to let people in, to see the real Aramis, and he was stunned at the response. Everyone from co-workers, friends and even a few old acquaintances from his past were clamouring to help.

“How’s Marsac doing?” Athos asked, breaking Aramis from his reverie.

“The doctor’s say he won’t make it to Christmas, but he’s in great spirits. It’s... “ Aramis paused trying to keep his voice from shaking. Losing Marsac for the second time was going to be devastating and he was having a hard time coping with it. “It’s been amazing to get to know him again, the best gift ever, but losing him is going to hurt. Victor and Isabelle tore away my shields, leaving me vulnerable. I’m going to need everyone’s support when he does pass away and I’m struggling. I’m struggling with feeling that it’s ok to ask for this.”

“Well then don’t feel bad about asking because you don’t have to ask, Aramis. It’s already freely given. I’m proud of you, did you know that? You’re so strong and the fact that you are fighting to put your life back together only proves that.”

Aramis was enveloped in Athos’ arms than in a fierce hug. He resisted for a second before melting into the embrace.

“Any word on Ninon?” Aramis asked a bit later as he hobbled on his crutches down the hallway with Athos.

“Not much, we found them on a street security camera somewhere in England but they vanished afterwards. Treville thinks they flew out of the country but without a warrant, the airport won’t release anything to us.”

“Don’t they understand why we need this information?”

“It’s all politics, privacy and bureaucracy crap, really. The judge doesn’t want to give us a warrant because he is friends with the head of the airport authority. The airport doesn’t want us to interfere because they don’t want to have to do the work of turning over stuff. The list goes on and only gets even more ridiculous as it goes.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah… We’ll find her Aramis, I promise you this,” Athos said.

“I still think she’ll call before you find her, but I’ll help in any way possible.”

Athos nodded. “I hope she does call and that she is okay. I pray that Victor didn’t get to her first.”

  
  


**July 4, 2016 - Professor David’s office - Aramis, Porthos and Kent**

 

“I am pleased to have you here today,” Kent said with a smile. He clapped his hands together and sat down excitedly in his chair.

Seeing how excited Kent was, made Porthos nervous. He didn’t  want to be in here, this was Aramis’ space of healing, not his. There was nothing for him to heal. _Right?_ Porthos looked over at Kent to see the man staring at him expectantly. _O_ h gosh, now he was even more nervous.

“Everything okay?” Kent asked as Porthos fidgeted in the chair.

Aramis and Porthos arrived at the session like they did every day. Porthos usually went across the street to the small coffee shop, promising to be back within the hour. It always helped ease Aramis' frayed nerves knowing that Porthos was close by should he need him. That was in the beginning, though, now, it was more habit than anything. Porthos would leave the office for lunch and get Aramis from home and bring him here. Then after the session was done he'd go back to work.

He’d just placed his hand on the door to leave when the professor flew out of his office and asked Porthos to wait a moment. Aramis and Kent disappeared behind closed doors for about ten minutes before Aramis came back out and Porthos was waved in. Now he sat across from Kent, minus Aramis, his knee bouncing and hands worrying at the hem of his sweater. _What could Kent possibly want from him?_

“Porthos,” Kent asked again. He was frowning now, concerned at Porthos’ lack of an answer. “Did you want a glass of water?”

“What? Oh, no thank you. I want to know why I am here. Is something wrong? Is Aramis okay? I thought everything was going as planned.”

“Calm down,” Kent soothed when Porthos spewed forth so many questions. “Aramis is fine, in fact, I will call him back into the room in a couple of minutes, it’s you I wanted to chat with.”

“O-ok, have I done something wrong? Did I set Aramis back in his recovery somehow?”

Kent sat back and sighed. “No, Porthos, I called you in here to see how _you_ were doing.”

Porthos was confused, why would professor David need to know how he was doing? He wasn’t Kent’s patient. Had Aramis said something to make the doctor feel as though Porthos was struggling with something?

“How _I’m_ doing?” He asked.

“Yes, you. Aramis has some significant traumas to deal with, but sometimes the ones doing the supporting struggle just as much. It’s a lot to deal with. Sometimes people who survive a traumatic experience don't end up the same person they were before. Their friends and families are left struggling to accept that they won't ever have their old friend back.”

“You don’t think Aramis is going to get better, professor? He seems like he’s improving leaps and bounds since he’s been coming here for his sessions with you. I don’t understand.”

“That’s not what I said, Aramis is doing well as I am sure you know. Again, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Aramis has an amazing support system and I am making sure that system remains healthy and strong. I want you to know that if you are struggling with any of this that I would be happy to lend an ear,” Kent responded.

Porthos relaxed his stiff posture after hearing Aramis was alright. Kent was right, Aramis was doing very well and improving on a daily basis. His boyfriend was returning to him bit by bit. Porthos looked at Kent, searching his face for anything that would suggest he was fooling him. The professor was smiling at him warmly and it made Porthos want to start talking and talking. Was this how Aramis’ felt when he was in this room?

“Everything is going well. I’m trying very hard to rebuild the trust between us. I’m there when Aramis needs me, I take him to his meetings and doctors appointments. I support him when he needs it and encourage his independence. I don't push him into anything that he doesn't want and I won't leave him again.”

“That’s wonderful, he’s mentioned you’ve been there for him, but what about you? Is this too much of a burden on you?” Kent asked.

“It was overwhelming in the beginning,” Porthos said. “But I understood that he needed time to recover and in the more recent weeks, he’s been amazing and sweet. He’s been making sure that I am taking care of myself.”

“And how are you coping with Aramis now as compared to Aramis before this happened?”

The question made Porthos pause for a moment. He hadn’t stopped to consider that Aramis might be any different now than he was several months ago. Sure, his boyfriend was a lot less trustful of situations and of people he didn’t know, but that was completely within reason. He’d also lost a lot of confidence in himself, but Porthos figured that he would work his way through that one with some help from him and his friends.

“I don’t think he’s changed all that much,” Porthos finally said. “He kind of already became someone new seven years ago. He went through that fire and the loss of his family seven years ago and what happened recently, while connected, was different. He didn't lose anyone close to him this time and he regained his old best friend.  I think, instead, that his abduction this time around was closure for him if that makes sense?"

Kent nodded and wrote something down on his pad of paper before speaking. “It makes a lot of sense. I’m glad to see you are holding everything together and not having a hard time with all these changes in your life. My offer stands still if you need to speak to someone I am here. Now, let's pull in Aramis, I have some good news that you’ll both want to hear.”

Kent went to the door and motioned for Aramis to enter. Porthos could tell that Aramis was a little nervous about what was coming as he sat down beside him. Whatever the two had chatted about for those ten minutes before Porthos went in, wasn't disclosed to his boyfriend. Porthos took Aramis’ hand and squeezed it tight in silent support. Aramis met his gaze with a nervous smile and an answering squeeze.

“Alright, now that both of you are here," Kent began, "I wanted to say how much of a pleasure it’s been to watch you heal throughout these sessions Aramis. You’ve come so far in a short period of time and that was solely by your own hard work and perseverance. I’ve seen many patients struggle for years and not make any strides, but you have this determination driving you. I don’t think we're done yet, I still think you have a long path ahead of you. It is my pleasure to say that I don’t think it’s urgent care you need any more.”

“What do you mean?” Aramis asked.

Porthos glanced at his boyfriend when he spoke. His cheeks were flushed crimson in embarrassment at the praise Kent was giving. It was well-earned praise, Aramis was far too humble some days.

“I mean that I don’t think it’s urgent that you be having sessions with me on a daily basis. Let’s cut that down to around one a week and see how it goes? If you feel you need more we can adjust, but no less than one a week, for now, okay?”

“Oh… okay,” Aramis responded softly.

It had Porthos and Kent frowning, immediately concerned. “You okay, love?” Porthos asked.

“I just never thought I would get this far,” Aramis said. “I’m so grateful to everyone.”

Porthos smiled, put his arm around Aramis’ shoulders and pulled him into his side. Aramis huffed at the attention before relaxing into Porthos’ hold. “We love you and I’m proud of you.”

Porthos chuckled as Aramis’ face reddened again at the praise. “Stop, please,” Aramis begged.

“No,” Porthos responded. “None of us will stop until you believe you are worthy of it.”

“Ah Porthos, you’re a good man. Keep at him,” Kent said gesturing at Aramis. “It does his heart good to be around positive influences like yours.”

“I don’t plan on stopping,” Porthos responded with a grin.

  


**July 5, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos and Porthos**

 

“Crap,” Porthos exclaimed. “How many boxes are there?”

He’d just walked into the conference room where they’d been investigating the serial killers for several months. There were boxes littered everywhere, some open, some closed and small piles of loose items all over the room. Athos was currently standing at the pinboard map they’d created pulling down pictures and newspaper clippings and placing them in their coordinating boxes.

“Ten for the original case seven years ago. Ten for each fire for the current investigation and a few others that didn’t fit into a category,” Athos responded.

Porthos, who was still standing in the doorway, whistled at the number. He wasn’t really all that surprised over how much evidence they had and how many boxes it was taking to store it. It was high time, actually, that they wrapped up the last of this case and filed it away as solved. They’d been putting it off for months, now, always coming up with one excuse or another. It was because this case meant more to them than just another notch on the solved crimes list.

It was amazing to think that seven months ago when the serial killers began their assault on Paris, he and Athos had no clue what they were investigating. Who would’ve thought that his own boyfriend would be the target of not one, but two crazy psychos. Both out for revenge that spanned the course of seven years and more than eighteen counts of murder. It was Aramis’ slow recovery and of the secrets revealed during the investigation that kept the files still littered about the room. No one blamed them, though, but now, seven months after this case began, it was getting time to put it to rest.

“You going to help or will you continue standing in the doorway contemplating life?” Athos asked as he handed Porthos a cloth bag filled with stuff.

Porthos looked into the bag, eyes widening at its contents. “Is this… How did… But it’s evidence?” He stammered.

Athos shrugged and closed two boxes, writing the dates of the crimes on the front. “Treville decided we had enough evidence in that particular fire and told me to give them to you.”

“Is he sure?”

“Of course,” Athos responded. He picked the box from off the table and stacked it against the wall near the door. “You going to give them to him?”

Porthos wasn’t sure how to answer that, he wasn’t sure that Aramis was mentally strong enough to deal with the emotions and memories contained in this bag. “I don’t know… I mean yes, of course, eventually. I just want to make sure he’s ready for the memories that will follow with these.”

Athos nodded and pointed to the boxes. “I understand. I’m pretty much done here, want to help carry these to archives?”

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “Just let me stash this in my office and I will be right back to help.”

When Porthos arrived back to the conference room Athos was closing up the final box. The room looked dramatically different from the way it looked thirty minutes ago. The chairs were back under the once again visible conference table and the boxes for the investigation were taped shut and labelled according to the date of the fire.

“Athos,” Porthos asked timidly. “I need your advice on something, do you have a moment?”

Athos paused mid-box lift and looked up at Porthos. His partner looked nervous and he was holding something in the palm of his hand. Athos set the box back down, walked over to his partner and took the object from Porthos’ outstretched hand.

It was a ring. A brushed, black tungsten, thick banded, wedding ring with several infinity symbols engraved into the inside. “This is beautiful Porthos, I assume it’s meant for Aramis?”

“Yeah... I’m worried he isn’t ready,” Porthos said.

“At some point, you’re going to have to take off the kid gloves with him. You said he wasn't ready to see what was in the bag and now he's not ready for you to propose. You both have said that Dr David is impressed with his recovery progress, so which is it?"

Porthos ran his hands through his hair and huffed. "I don't want to set him back..."

"He’s going back to work in less than two months… is he not going to be ready for that either?” Athos continued.

“Are you saying I’m holding him back?” Porthos snapped.

Athos sighed in frustration. He hadn’t meant to make Porthos angry, but someone had to be the voice of reason. In their group of friends, it usually fell on him to be the reasonable one. “All I am saying is that if you start deciding to shelter Aramis from experiencing moments and events you’ll stifle his recovery.”

Porthos visibly deflated. “I’m worried he’ll say no.”

“You won’t know unless you ask him, will you?” Athos responded.

“I guess not,” Porthos replied. He pocketed the ring and leaned against the wall, considering the things Athos said to him. He was so worried he was going to trigger something in Aramis and then they'd be at square one again. Athos was right, though, he had to stop this or he'd lose Aramis again and this time it wouldn't be anyone's fault but his own.

While Porthos was mulling over his impending proposal, Athos had gone quiet. He'd received some news that morning that had unsettled him in the form of a letter from his son. With everything that had happened in the past four months, he hadn't paid attention to the date.  The letter was several pages long, requesting his father to come visit him in Canada. At first, he was elated at finally hearing from his long lost child, but then worry crept in. What if this kid wanted nothing more than to meet him and blame him for abandoning him?

"You listening to me?" Porthos asked, breaking through Athos' thoughts. "I've decided that I am going to wait a couple of months, maybe longer, before I propose or give him the bag of items. I'd just like to get him settled in at work and for life to resume before changing up things again."

"No, that makes sense," Athos agreed. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you were holding back earlier, I wanted to make sure you weren't using his ordeal as an excuse not to go through with it. I really do think he will love that ring and say yes."

Porthos nodded and then grinned. He walked over to the pile of boxes and picked a couple of them up. "Thanks, partner. You wanted help carrying these down to the archives?"

“Actually, hold on,” Athos began. He had to tell Porthos, it was now or not at all. “I have something of my own to tell you. Remember when I told you about my son? Well, I got a letter from him the other day. He’s eighteen now and was able to open the sealed adoption files. He’s asked me to come and meet him in Canada.”

“Athos, that’s amazing news!” Porthos exclaimed. He set the boxes down again on the pile. “Are you going to go?”

Athos pulled out one of the many chairs in the room and sat down in it. He bent over and rested his head in his hands. “I want to, so bad, more than you’ll ever know. I don’t know if I should go. What if I’m not what he was expecting? What if he doesn't forgive me for abandoning him eighteen years ago? What if he wants me to be a father after this long? I don't know if I can be that for anyone, not even my own son. I was still so young when Anne and I had him.”

It was silent for a bit before Athos felt a presence beside him as Porthos at down in a chair across from him. “Athos look at me."

Porthos didn’t say anything again until Athos looked up at him. “I think before you make the choice to go visit this kid you need to get to know him. Set up some facetime chats, write some letters, anything, really. He’s your blood, yes, but you don’t know him. I wouldn't worry about being the father of the year just yet."

“That’s true… I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment and now that it's here I am terrified. Do you think this is how Aramis has been feeling about Renee?”

“Honestly, he doesn’t talk much about Renee. He’s still protecting her, but I am sure if we could find Ninon and know she's safe, he'd be more open,” Porthos reasoned. "Speaking of which, has d'Artagnan managed to uncover any more info on where Ninon might be?"

Athos smiled at Porthos. "Yes! I forgot to tell you, d'Artagnan was going to tell Aramis today and it was my job to talk to you. We managed to find all of Clarence Clerbeaux's properties. There was no activity at any except the one in Hawaii. We found out that Ninon, Clarence and the children flew from England to Hawaii and enrolled the kids in school. They are alive! Aramis will be so happy to know this."

“That is wonderful news! Maybe he will relax a little now and stop worrying over that phone call from her.”

“Let's hope so, he could really use some good news right now. It had to be tearing him up inside not knowing whether Renee was alive or not,” Athos agreed.

“I’m going to miss this room,” Porthos said as he suddenly changed the subject. “It feels like it’s our space, you know? Hmmm, I wonder...”

“It can still be our research space,” Athos frowned. “What are you getting at?”

Porthos waved Athos off and stood up, glancing around the room. “In fact, this should be our space always. Let’s see if Treville will let us move our offices down here!”

Athos rolled his eyes at Porthos. His partner got this way every time they solved a case, needing to be useful after endless months of overworking themselves. Usually, they had Aramis and d’Artagnan to fall back on and distract Porthos, but this year the two were busy elsewhere. It was going to fall on him this time to distract Porthos from re-arranging office spaces. “Let’s move these boxes first and  then have a visit with Aramis before we decide on anything?”

Porthos nodded and followed Athos out of the office, still discussing with himself where his desk would go in the room.


	30. August 12, 2016 - A park - Aramis and Porthos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been sick with a head cold and am not nearly as far ahead of this post as I'd like to be. The post next week may have to be delayed by a couple of days... please forgive me.

**August 12, 2016 - A park - Aramis and Porthos**

  
  


It was a pleasant day. The sun was shining, there was a light breeze in the air and the stifling summer heat had abated for a couple of days. It was a perfect day for a walk and that’s exactly what Porthos and Aramis were doing. It wasn't a fast walk by any means because even after five months Aramis' leg was still recovering. Porthos admitted the other day he was worried about the slow progress but Aramis assured him it was normal. It could take up to a year to get back to where he was before Victor broke his leg. Thankfully, the break was a simple one that damaged very little but the bone, so Aramis didn't figure that it would take a full year to recover. So, for the time being, Aramis was still confined to using a cane to support the weight.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Aramis sighed. They paused in their walk and sat down on a bench where Aramis sighed and laid his head on Porthos’ shoulder. “Thank you for suggesting a walk.”

Porthos nodded and resting his head on Aramis’ he squeezed the man’s hand a little tighter in response. “You don’t have to thank me for this.”

“It’s still hard to get around, I appreciate when anyone takes time out of their lives to cater to me,” Aramis responded with a smile.

“Well it’s certainly no hardship on my part,” Porthos responded with a grin. “I get to see you and spend time with you, which is two of my very favourite things.”

They spent a few moments in silence appreciating the haze of late summer while Aramis snuggled into Porthos’ arms. The park was deserted right now a, most people hid out in their air conditioned houses having dinner with their families. The two would have to make their own way home for food soon if Porthos’ growling stomach was any indication. There was no reason to rush, though, they’d been through so much in the last several months that moments like these were treasured. If there was anything to be grateful about what happened, it was that the bond between him and Porthos couldn’t be any stronger than it was now. The two were like new lovers stealing kisses and needing to be touching as often as possible. It felt like pure torture to be apart some days.

“I’m not ready for the cooler fall weather,” Aramis commented.

“After these last couple of weeks of scorching heat, I don’t think I’d mind a bit of crispness to the air.”

Aramis grunted his disagreement. He vehemently hated the cold. If they ever won the lottery, he was buying a house somewhere where winter wasn’t in the vocabulary. “Yeah well, you’re like a furnace, what would you know about being cold? Why do I live in this frozen wasteland?”

“Aw, love, you know I’d always keep you warm,” Porthos said laughing as he pulled Aramis in closer. “Besides, there are far worse places you could be and you love Paris.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Porthos snorted, “Oh have you now? Well, I am staying right here in this frozen wasteland. I’ll be sad if you leave, though… I’d have no one to offer my warmth too, no one to buy silly little presents for… Oh, wait! I’d still have d’Artagnan and Athos. I could buy them all sorts of trinkets.”

Aramis gasped. He knew Porthos was teasing him, but the thought of his boyfriend buying presents for other people but himself made him a tad jealous. “You wouldn’t dare…” As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, though, he went red in instant embarrassment. God, how childish was that?

“You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed and jealous of the silliest of things.” Porthos laughed as he pressed a kiss to Aramis’ head. “It makes me feel appreciated.”

“I do appreciate you Porthos,” Aramis hummed. “Without you, I would never have made it through the weeks of my captivity. I endured for as long as I could, knowing that you would be moving the ends of the earth to find me. I knew you'd find me despite us having had a fight that morning I went missing. I’d take that whole conversation back if I could… I trust you, Porthos. I really, really do and I am sorry I made you think otherwise.”

Aramis yelped a moment later when Porthos moved and gripped him by the shoulders to face him. “Listen, my love, there is nothing you need to apologize for that you haven’t already been forgiven for and I hope it’s likewise?”

“It is,” Aramis responded.

“Then let’s end the apologies here and now. We made mistakes and we will continue to make them as we continue on in this relationship.”

Aramis nodded, visibly relieved that he and Porthos could move forward now. He was about to ask Porthos how Athos' calls with Raoul were going when his phone rang with an unknown number. Aramis looked at Porthos with a puzzled expression, who shrugged. Who would be calling him?

“Hello?” he said as he answered.

“Aramis, it’s Ninon. Are you somewhere private, we need to talk,” She said.

“Hold on,” Aramis responded. He covered the speaker with his finger and looked up at Porthos. His heart was beating rapidly and his mouth was suddenly very dry. Knowing Ninon was alive had helped ease some of his worries, but hearing from her was a whole different level. What if she was calling with bad news? “It’s Ninon, I need to take it.”

Porthos nodded but made no move to leave the area. “I’m staying here for this,” he said.

“Alright Ninon, it’s Porthos and me.”

“I’m sorry we disappeared.” She said with a sniffle. Aramis could tell she was trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. “I never thought we would need to use our contingency plan. I always felt protected because you were safe… and then you weren’t.”

“Aw Ninon, don’t cry, it’s okay, I’m okay. Protecting Renee has always been the number one plan and you did the right thing. It’s been too long, though, you should have let me know ages before now that you were okay. You are okay right?”

“Yes, yes, everything is good. We didn’t leave until someone matching Victor’s description appeared at the kid's school. Clarence and I didn't want to run before making sure so I checked and found out that Victor was out of jail on a stupid technicality. I can’t believe I never thought to watch that man all these years. We left England to one of the Clerbeaux properties in Hawaii and put the kids in school for the rest of the semester. To think if I’d done a better job none of this would’ve happened… Aramis I am so sorry…”

“Oh Ninon, no,” he said softly. “None of this was your fault, please believe that. I was so desperate to hide everything, to pretend it didn’t exist, that I let my guard down in the worst way possible. I am working on not blaming myself for all this, the fault lies solely in Isabelle’s and Victor’s hands.”

“There were so many things we didn't handle well in those first days was there? We should've looked into Victor after the fire, but with everything going on it completely escaped my mind. I’ve heard Victor and Isabelle are dead, is that true?”

Aramis looked at Porthos when Ninon mentioned Victor and Isabelle's death. He needed his boyfriend's strength and support right now because talking about them still hurt. Porthos somehow knew exactly what he needed because he leaned forward and whispered in Aramis' other ear. 'It's okay, I'm here.' He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before answering her. The last thing he needed to do was break down in the middle of a public park.

“Their deaths were befitting and gruesome," he said in a rough voice that betrayed his emotion. How’s Renee?”

“I'm glad, but they deserved worse," Ninon growled. "Renee is good, that’s the main reason why I called. Look Aramis, we told her. In the face of the threat of Victor, your abduction and the possibility of losing everything, we had to tell her.”

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t, she’s only a little girl… How did she react? Was she angry? Did she say anything about me?”

“She has her mother’s determination and your bright mind, Aramis, it was like she already suspected. She took it quite well, she asked a lot of questions and demanded to know everything about you. She doesn’t know the whole truth, obviously. Some of that is difficult to explain to a seven-year-old, but she does know that you couldn’t give her what she needed in life. I want you to meet her, but...I’m sorry, I am not ready to give her up yet, if ever...” Ninon trailed off.

Aramis sighed, unsure of what to do or say. He’d been struggling with this for months and he still had no easy answer. He looked over at Porthos, who could only hear his side of the conversation happening over the phone. Porthos had a soft look on his face and he mouthed the words ‘I love you’ to him. Aramis didn’t know what the future would hold for Renee, Ninon and him, but he knew they'd figure all this out.

“Look, Ninon, I… I want to know her. I've gone through so much and now that I am finally free of the past, I need her to know me too. You need to know that I will not ever take her from you. Ever. I promised you in Richelieu’s office that I was giving you my daughter to raise and that I wasn’t taking her away. I want to be there for her in every way I can.”

He could hear a sniffle through the phone and knew that Ninon was crying. Part of him worried that she was going to hang up and never speak to him again. She would be well within her rights, he signed all the legal paperwork, but he hoped that she would allow him this.

“Clarence doesn’t agree with any of this," she said, "you’re going to meet resistance from him. He doesn’t understand how you could give up your child, but he’s never faced the odds we faced that night.”

“I understand. I won’t replace Clarence in her life either, I hope he comes to realize that.” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but at the same time, he understood Ninon’s husband’s reluctance. Renee was Clarence’s daughter, not by blood, but by everything else possible.

“We are staying in Hawaii for a while,” Ninon continued. “Clarence has gotten a job in the United States for 6 months and I want the kids to finish an entire year of school here. It’s tough moving them around all the time. His job starts after Christmas, can you wait that long?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say…” Could he wait another year to see his daughter?

“Say yes,” Ninon begged. “We can set up some video calls in the meantime?”

“Ok,” Aramis responded quietly.

“Are you truly ok with this?” She asked him.

“I just can’t believe this is happening, never in a million years did I think I would get the chance to know her. In the meantime, I’ve got Porthos and with him, I can weather anything,” He said grinning at Porthos. “Get settled in Hawaii, Ninon, and then call me.”

“I will Aramis, I am so happy you are alive and well.”

“I’m happy too, so much,” Aramis said fondly as he reached up and traced Porthos’ jawline. His boyfriend laughed and brushed his tickles away. He could hear Ninon sigh on the other end of the phone.

“You ok?” Porthos asked after Ninon hung up. He pulled Aramis into his arms, holding him tight.

“Everything couldn’t be better than it is right now. I have you and I have a daughter who is smarter than me, I have the best friends in the world, what more could I ever want?” Aramis snuggled into Porthos' chest, hiding his face.

“A puppy?”

Laughing, Aramis pulled out of Porthos arms and looked at him. His boyfriend’s eyes were hopeful and bright and he was smiling from ear to ear. “Ah Porthos, you picked now to ask for a pet knowing I couldn’t say no to you, didn’t you?”

Porthos answered by laughing and bringing Aramis' face to his for a soft kiss.

“A small dog,” Aramis acquiesced a moment later.

Porthos grinned and kissed him again. “Medium.”

“Stop," Aramis giggled. He pressed his forehead into Porthos' lips, savouring the warmth emanating from them. "We could discuss a medium to small dog.”

“A large to medium dog,” Porthos responded. Again, he lifted Aramis' face and pressed a soft kiss to his nose and then the cheek and then the side of his mouth. Aramis giggled. Porthos was going to win this battle.

“Fine.” Aramis rolled his eyes. “A medium dog.”

Porthos’ shout of joy was catching and he swooped Aramis off the bench and into his arms in a giant bear hug.

"Porthos, I can't breathe!" Aramis laughed. He was set down immediately by a still exuberant Porthos.

"Come on," Porthos said, holding out his hand for Aramis to take. "Let's get back to the house, I'm starving and I need to start shopping for a puppy."

He was still glowing from Ninon's phone call and Porthos' loving attention, to care that he'd agreed to a pet. Aramis picked up his discarded, lonely, cane and took Porthos' hand to walk home.

  
  
  


**September 12, 2016 - Porthos and Aramis’ Townhouse - Aramis and d’Artagnan**

  
  


D’Artagnan woke up that morning with a pit at the bottom of his stomach. It was Aramis’ first day back on the job after just over six months and he wanted to be there for his friend. In fact, he'd volunteered to take him to work today because Porthos and Athos couldn't get away from work. His Uncle Treville was on a short sabbatical and Athos was filling in for him while Porthos was helping in any way he could.

D'Artagnan had to admit he was nervous about today, far more than he had any reason to be. So many things could go wrong, but Aramis was doing so well as of late, that there wasn't any reason why today wouldn’t go smoothly. He needed to calm his nerves before going to pick up Aramis, though, otherwise, he was only going to make the situation worse. 

After a light breakfast and a quick shower, d’Artagnan drove to the townhouse to pick Aramis up. He arrived just as a frantic Porthos came racing out of the house, late for work. The man looked frazzled and that was being kind to his appearance. It looked as though he’d not had his morning coffee and only had time to toss on the most basic of clothing. Thank goodness Treville wasn’t back yet because jeans and a rumpled t-shirt weren't dresscode compliant. 

“Aramis is terribly nervous. He won’t listen to reason and I don’t know how to help him,” Porthos said to d’Artagnan as he walked down the sidewalk to the car. He unlocked his passenger car door and tossed his things inside. “Damn, I wish I could’ve gotten today off. It feels like I’m abandoning him. You’ll look after him, right? I’m worried…”

D’Artagnan smiled nervously if Porthos was this worried there was no telling how bad Aramis was inside. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of today, Porthos. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“I’ll call in a couple of hours, give you two time to settle in,” Porthos said. Even though he still looked unsure he hopped into his car and pulled out of the parking spot. D'Artagnan watched Porthos drive away before taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before entering the house.

The inside of the townhouse was a disaster zone. There was clothing strewn about, most of it scrubs that Aramis would wear to work. There was pre-packaged food laid out on the table sorted into piles as if waiting for a lunch bag to be placed into. You’d think that Aramis was packing for an extended stay at the hospital with all the stuff that the living room held. D’Artagnan immediately understood why Porthos was worried. Aramis was muttering to himself, racing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. He was carrying several different items and dumping them into his duffel bag only to pull other items out and toss them aside. Rinse, repeat.

He walked over to Aramis’ duffel bag and peered inside. “How many changes of scrubs do you have in here?”

“Uhhh,” Aramis counted on his fingers. “Five? Is that enough? No, I should add a couple more, you never know what’s going to happen,” Aramis said as he made to walk back to the kitchen.

D’Artagnan spun around to glance at his friend who was making a beeline for the stairs. This was going to be a trying day, d’Artagnan decided as he ran to intercept Aramis. He had to get Aramis moving out the door or they’d be doing this all morning. Guiding his friend back to the couch to sit down for a moment, he took his first real look at him. Aramis’ hair was wild, more than it normally was, as though he’d been tugging at the strands due to stress. He had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and he was wearing several layers of clothing underneath his scrubs. D’Artagnan knew his friend hadn’t slept well as his back to work date was approaching. It was obvious his friend was nervous, but it was the layers of clothing that clued him into exactly what was going on in Aramis’ head.

“Aramis, you do know you aren’t going to be abducted again right?You’ll be perfectly safe at the hospital.”

“But I was supposed to be safe the last time,” Aramis said softly. “I was safe and even that didn’t protect me! I don’t even know how to define safe anymore.”

D’Artagnan sighed. “Look, Aramis, obviously shit happens every day that is out of our control, but you know what is in our control? The ability to face our fears and refuse to allow someone else to determine our future.”

“So what you’re trying to say is that I don’t need five pairs of scrubs?”

D’Artagnan laughed, “something like that, yes. But you understand what I’m saying right?”

It was Aramis’ turn to sigh. He stood up and pulled several pairs of scrubs out of his duffel bag. “What if it’s too soon? What if something goes wrong? That’s it, I can’t do this. I’m not ready.” He dropped everything he was holding to the ground and stepped over it to go back into the other room.

D’Artagnan ran in front of Aramis and blocked his path back into the kitchen. “Hey, hey, hey calm down and take a deep breath.”

He put his hands on Aramis’ shoulders and squeezed them, kneading his fingers into the stiffened muscles. D’Artagnan waited Aramis out until he shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment. His breathing slowed and his shoulders sagged when the tension released. “Thanks… I needed that.”

“You’ll be fine today my friend, you only have to take it one step at a time. They’ve put you in the children's ward until you feel comfortable enough to venture back down to emergency. They’ve also scheduled you for half shifts for a few weeks to ease you back into the high demand of the job.”

Aramis shuddered again. “That’s… generous of them. I feel like I am being this huge pain in the butt.”

“Not a pain, just well loved and respected. Believe me, so many people are excited to have you back.” D’Artagnan released Aramis’ shoulders and backed up a bit to see if Aramis would bolt for the kitchen again. He relaxed completely a moment later when it looked as though his friend was staying put.

“What have I ever done to deserve the level of care and compassion everyone has been showing me? I don’t understand, I lied to everyone, created a new life and hid away for years. I never let any of you see who I really was. How did you all just see right through me?” Aramis stated incredulously.

D’Artagnan shrugged as if what he was going to say was the simplest thing in the world. "You’re you, Aramis. The man you are, the man we’ve all come to know, is more than deserving of all our care and compassion. Yeah, you lied, but like I’ve said before, it wasn’t done out of malice. It was the only thing you thought you could do given the circumstances at the time. If you think you are this completely different person now than you were eight months ago then you are deluding yourself, my friend. We’ve seen you. We’ve always seen you. You’re the one who hasn’t been seeing.”

Aramis bit back a sob at d’Artagnan’s words. He was right. It was infuriating and yet endearing just how right everyone else was these days. He pushed the base of his hand into his eyes to stop the stinging tears from overflowing. God, he was tired.

“Kent has been an amazing experience,” Aramis said as he sat back down on the couch, “but there is only so much he can do to help me. He says it’s up to me to take these steps in reclaiming my life. He can prepare me for it, but I need to find the courage to take the first steps. Supposedly, it gets easier as I go. As much as I would love to crawl back under the blankets in my bed, I also need to get my life back. Let’s do this.”

It did end up taking an extra hour to coax Aramis out of the door and to work, but once there his friend was well received. Of course, everyone there made sure that he did no work as he was forced to make social visits to everyone, including long-term patients.   
Aramis was going to be fine.


	31. October 6, 2016 - The Park - Aramis and Porthos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an early post, sorry it's so short! I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. I will be delayed with the next chapter by a few days because I literally have nothing written... sigh.
> 
> Also, there is some amazing fanart done by Knights-and-Musketeers [ It's the glade that Aramis and Porthos visit in this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9934442)

**October 6, 2016 - The Park - Aramis and Porthos**

 

The park was deserted, though that might have been because it was nearly midnight. With both of them back at work and busy, finding time to spend together this last month had been a challenge. Their first chance at a night off together wasn’t taken for granted, though. Porthos made reservations at an expensive restaurant and Aramis had been wined, dined and romanced. Afterwards, the suggested walk through the park they went to on their first date was a welcome idea. They strolled lazily, hand in hand, down the paths with no real destination in mind. Actually, that was a lie, every time they came to this place Aramis always ended up in the same place. The glade.

The centre of the large park was Aramis’ favourite spot, there was a gazebo and a small lake where the ducks swam. The city planted flowers and trimmed back the trees in the summer so the sunlight could get through. It was a serene, quiet place to bring a picnic and a book and spend hours underneath the trees. Because the park was so large, few people ventured this far into it, which was another reason Aramis loved it. He'd spent more time in this space than he'd ever admit.

“What in the world…” Aramis said breathlessly. As they neared the gazebo, he noted that there was a soft glow coming from the secluded glade.

Aramis let go of Porthos’ hand and scrambled ahead of him into the glade. He spun around in a circle, mouth agape, eyes wide in complete awe of the area surrounding them. Fairy lights were hung from the trees, coated in snow after the unexpected early snowfall. Large snowflakes fluttered to the ground, making the park look like a magical, winter wonderland. The gazebo in the centre was alight with several lanterns hanging around it, both on the outside and underneath the roof. There was a thick blanket laid out in the middle for someone to sit on. Whoever had decorated this had done so for someone special, someone who was well loved and cherished.

"Porthos, are you seeing this?" Aramis asked. It was so romantic looking that Aramis had to pull out his phone that very moment and snap a few pictures of the scene. "This is so beautiful."

When Aramis finished being a giant puddle of goo at the thought of such a romantic gesture, he turned to find Porthos. His boyfriend had been oddly silent since coming upon this scene and he was a little worried. Aramis turned to where he'd abandoned him at the entrance of the glade, but Porthos wasn’t there anymore. He spun around again, stopping when he spied Porthos kneeling on the floor of the gazebo. “Porthos what are you doing? Get up, you’ll get dirty, the floor is wet with snow.”

Suddenly, music began playing from the depths of the gazebo. It was a soft and flowing song, one of Aramis' favourites. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set this scene and he and Porthos were intruding! “Porthos, we can’t be here! We’ll ruin someone’s special moment!” He said in a panic.

Porthos didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or roll his eyes over his boyfriend’s idiocy. On one hand, he’d succeeded in surprising Aramis, who seemed to have no clue what was about to happen. On the other hand, it saddened him to think that Aramis would never suspect that a grand gesture like this could be something he would be deserving of. He’d change that, though. He’d spend the rest of his life building this man up until he understood how cherished he was. Even then, he wouldn’t stop, because Aramis was worth even more than that to him.

“Come here, Aramis,” Porthos said softly, holding out his hand for him to take. He pulled Aramis in close until their bodies were barely a foot apart from one another. Until what he was going to say wouldn't be heard by anyone else but the two of them. “This isn’t for anyone else but you.”

“But…” Aramis stuttered. His cheeks blushed crimson in the twinkling fairy lights and Porthos knew it had nothing to do with the chilly air.

Porthos shook his head and smiled, crinkling his eyes. “No buts, no reason for any of them. I did this all for you because you are worth it. You deserve more than I could ever give you.”

Porthos waited while Aramis searched his face for any sign that this was an untruth, that he didn't mean every word he had just said. He felt the moment that Aramis began to understand as his hands began shaking and he let out a gasp in realization over what was going on. Porthos watched as his soft brown eyes widened and Aramis shook his head as if, even now, he could not believe that this was happening.  Porthos felt his heart squeeze painfully at the disbelief in Aramis' eyes. He knew it wasn't that Aramis didn't believe him, believe in him, but rather it was his disbelief that something like this could be happening to  _ him _ . If he was lucky, Aramis would give him the chance to prove over and over why he deserved the entire world from him.

“I can only hope that one day you will realize how worth it you are. In the meantime, I am going to have to drill it into that thick head of yours,” Porthos began. He pulled Aramis closer until he was looking straight up at him and their hands were crushed between them. “Aramis, from the very second I met you at that crash scene five years ago, I knew that there was something between us. Call it a spark of chemistry or a clarification of where my life was headed, whatever you want. It was like all the stars shone brighter, the planets aligned, and life’s worries fell away when I laid eyes on you.”

Aramis pulled in a shuddered breath. “Porthos… I…”

“Shhh, let me finish,” Porthos soothed. “It was the best day of my life when you said yes to going out on a date. I've told you the story of the lengths I went to learn who you were, but it pales in comparison to the truth of living it. Since then, despite many trials and tribulations, I’ve always circled back to you. Always you, never anyone else. Leaving you, losing you, was like tearing a piece of my heart out. That first night I spent alone, my world crumbled and I realized that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. The person I'd become was so intertwined with who you were, that I didn't know how to be alone anymore. I realized life without you wasn't a life worth living."

A single tear slithered out of the corner of his eye and he paused to regain his composure. This speech had gone horribly off track, Porthos thought as he began to panic. He wasn't supposed to be the one crying!

"Keep going, Porthos," Aramis whispered. He took one of his hands back and wiped away the wetness on Porthos' cheek with his thumb. "Please... don't stop..."

"Aramis, you are and always will be the single most important thing in my life. You are the first person I think of when I wake up and the last thing on my mind at night before I fall asleep. You are my everything, Aramis, every single damn thing. Marry me, please. Be my husband, my forever love, my best friend, my partner in crime.”

Porthos ended his speech by pulling a small box out of his pocket. It was a ring, a beautiful black ring. It was stunning. Breathtaking.

Aramis couldn’t breathe. His heart was exploding. The world around him was falling away. There was nothing but Porthos on his knees in front of him, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hands and his intense gaze. Aramis couldn’t look away, entranced by the spell Porthos was weaving. He fell to his knees, exhaling any remaining air in his lungs. Could he do this? Was he worthy of this man? This man who brought sunshine to his life and salvation to his heart. Porthos had healed him, had given him hope, a light in the darkness to follow. Porthos was his heart and his soul.

"I... I d--don't know what to say?" Aramis stammered. He squeezed Porthos' hands in support. "The word yes seems like such a trivial thing to say after a speech like that. It doesn't even encompass the scope of the things I want to say to you... It's... it's wholly insufficient."

He paused before getting up and pulling Porthos to his feet. His boyfriend had taken on a frightened expression as if he really expected Aramis to say no to him. As if he felt unworthy of him and that was an absolute untruth.

If Aramis was given the chance he would make sure Porthos never wanted for anything ever again. Porthos gave him the desire to be a better person, if for nothing else, but to live up to the standards Porthos unknowingly held him to. Those standards were what kept him alive all these years. It gave him something to strive for, something to live for. Never again would Aramis take for granted what Porthos had brought to his life. Adele may have been the love of his life, but he could see now they were never meant to be... Porthos was his soulmate, his equal, his other half. Aramis only now realised that he was always meant to be with this man.

"Aramis, love..." Porthos said in a voice that was insecure and timid. "Please... if this is anything but a yes... I mean... Please don't say no..."

"Oh my Porthos, my love, this isn't a no. This is a loud, resounding, freaking, yes," Aramis laughed. "There simply isn't a no in my vocabulary for such a moment as this. So yes, yes Porthos, yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times, YES."

Aramis didn't give Porthos even one single second to process what he was saying. His hands found the sides of Porthos' face and he pulled the man in to kiss him. Aramis slid his hands up to move into the man's curls, tangling them in the strands. He pulled Porthos in closer, controlling the kiss, deepening it. He was rewarded a moment as Porthos' body lost its stiffness and he melted into Aramis' tender care.

"Aramis?" Porthos asked as they pulled apart. He held out the ring box he still cradled in his hand and pulling out the band he slid it onto Aramis' ring finger. "Let me ask again. Will you do me the honour of being my husband?"

"Yes, Porthos," Aramis responded with a grin. He held out his hand to gaze at the band adorning his finger. "Please, yes..."  
Porthos laughed and spun Aramis around in a circle. All his dreams were coming true and he couldn't be any happier than he was at this moment.


	32. November 24, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos and Treville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness me, how do you guys do this? How do you write and post once a week? This has been such a stressful week trying to write something to post. I also despise every word in this chapter... I hope it's far more enjoyable for you guys to read this than it was writing haha

**November 24, 2016 - Police Precinct - Athos and Treville**

 

“Captain, could I bother you for a moment?” Athos asked as he walked into Treville’s office.

Treville looked up from his paperwork and smiled when he saw who it was. He’d been out of town for nearly a month on a much-needed leave of absence and found he’d missed his detectives. Hell, he missed the whole precinct, but Athos and Porthos had wormed their way into his heart. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell them any of that, it would go straight to their heads. He suspected they already knew, though, by the amount of leeway they seemed to assume they had.

“Ah Athos, It's good to see you. What can I do for you?”

“First, welcome back. This place is a madhouse when you aren't around. While I enjoyed filling in for you, it's not something I want to do often."

"Being a Captain of a police department is a demanding job, Athos. I think you do yourself a disservice, your comrades respect you. You’d be a perfect replacement for me someday," Treville said. “Now, what did you need?”

“I know it’s only been a few months since I was off work to help out Porthos and Aramis, but I need to know if I can take a few more weeks off. Probably a couple of days now and the rest towards mid-December.”

“What for?” Treville asked. He settled his pen down on the desk and sat back in his chair.

Athos felt bad asking for time off, but he needed to spend some quality time with Raoul. He and his son had been talking nonstop for months now and it was finally time to meet the kid. “Raoul is coming to Paris to visit the campus of one of our universities. He’s studying to become a teacher, majoring in French and minoring in social studies. He’s applied, been accepted and will be moving here to attend the winter session of school.”

“That’s wonderful news Athos!” Treville exclaimed. He knew that Athos had been working hard to develop a relationship between him and his son. “I can’t quite give you as much time off as you are requesting, but I am sure we could work something out. You know that the Christmas season is our busiest time and I can’t afford to lose my best detectives for very long. When is he supposed to arrive?”

“I will take whatever time off I can get. I’ve been waiting for 18 years for this opportunity and I don’t want to mess anything up,” Athos said. “He’s due to arrive this weekend to get some of his things set up and then he’s back home for finals. He’ll be flying back here as soon as the semester is over.”

Treville stood up from his chair and walked over to Athos, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He guided him over to the small table to sit down. “I admire that you are working to be something in Raoul’s life, but don’t upheave your life to accommodate him. Take it slow, don’t rush through this, you have lots of time to get to know him. Speaking of that, what do his parents think of all this? Are they alright with him moving all the way out here to get to know you?”

Athos nodded. “Raoul wasn’t the only kid his parent’s adopted so they are very much okay with him wanting to get to know me. Besides, he's here attending school. I don’t think they figured Raoul would up and transfer to a university halfway across the world, though. But, from what I’ve seen and heard, Raoul is a responsible and intelligent young man. A closed adoption wasn’t what I wanted, but with all the money and power behind Anne and her family, I had no choice.”

“You should’ve fought that,” Treville responded. “Though I guess that’s easy for anyone not in that situation to say.”

Athos ran a hand through his hair, absently noting that it needed a good cut. “Yeah, I was still a kid myself, though, what judge in their right mind would grant an eighteen-year-old boy custody of a baby? Besides, the people that adopted Raoul wanted him so much and I couldn't take his chance for a better life away from him. Anyways, being able to get to know him now is the most important thing. I just need for everything to go as smoothly as possible, hence why I asked for a couple days off this weekend. I want to show him around Paris and make sure that he knows I am here to help if he needs it.”

Treville nodded. “It will be good for him to get to know a few people as well. Will you introduce him to Aramis, Porthos and d’Artagnan?”

“Yes, Aramis especially. Aramis has been amazingly supportive since I found out Raoul wanted to get to know me. Believe it or not, he’s kept me sane through this all.”

Since receiving the letter from Raoul in July, Athos had been leaning on Aramis for support. He was terribly nervous that he was going to somehow mess this all up and had been going to great lengths to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Aramis was the only one of his friends who understood what he was going through, after all, he had to give up his own daughter when she was an infant. The difference was that Ninon had kept Aramis in the loop and sent pictures of Renee, Athos had none of that.

“It’s good to hear that Aramis is getting better and trying to help everyone else with their problems,” Treville said smiling. “It feels like it’s been ages since there’s been some semblance of normal amongst us all.”

Athos agreed, wholeheartedly. “You know he said the same thing as you? To take things slow.”

“Somedays I wonder about Aramis, but in this he is correct.” Treville laughed.

It was tough taking Aramis and Treville’s advice, though, to take things slow. It was becoming one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but he knew he’d push Raoul away if he smothered him. Raoul was a good kid. His parents raised him to be kind and respectable and he’d be an amazing teacher someday.

“Did I tell you that Raoul tracked Anne down?” Athos asked Treville. Athos leaned forward in his chair and tried not to wring his hands together. Mentioning her, even to this day made his hands shaky and his mouth dry. “He told me the other day… asked if I wanted to know where she was. It nearly brought me to my knees… all those old feelings rushed back. To be able to see her again, see if she still feels the same way, to see if we could work it out. That need to know courses through my veins. I don’t deal well with unknown outcomes.”

Treville hated seeing Athos so unsure of himself. He’d always admired the man for his strong will and unbreakable character. Athos would make an amazing captain someday and Treville hoped to be around for a few more years to help guide him. He’d admitted to himself only recently that he’d begun to see Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan and Aramis like his own sons. He felt blessed for it too, they were good men.

“If there is one thing that I am sure of, from the years I’ve known you, it’s that you’ve always said you and Anne would never work. Not then and not now. Your values and morals haven’t changed much from what they are now. Stop courting the unattainable and focus on what's within reach and that is your son.”

“Did Raoul say how he felt about finding his mother?”

“I mean, he seems fairly disappointed that she refused contact,” Athos shrugged. “I don’t know how to help him with that. We’ll figure it out I guess.”

Suddenly, Treville’s cell phone dinged with an incoming message. He picked it up and smiled at what was on the screen. “Go ahead and take the weekend off,” he said. “We can discuss December in greater detail another day. I have a dinner date with Aramis and I am anxious to see how he’s doing. I also have some good news for him.”

“Ahh, that’s why Porthos invited himself over tonight. You're actually doing Aramis a favour allowing him to escape for an evening, the man is climbing the walls in agitation. Porthos has been spending every moment with Aramis talking about the wedding," Athos said. "You’d think it would’ve been Aramis excited about planning a wedding, but it seems Porthos is playing the part of bridezilla in this situation."

"Bridezilla Porthos, now that I would like to see," Treville snorted.

"Alright," Athos said as he rose from the chair. "I should get going, I'm meeting Raoul at the airport in a couple of hours. Have a good dinner, Sir."

"I will Athos, thanks for coming to speak to me and giving me the heads up on Aramis," Treville responded.

  
  
  


**November 24, 2016 - Restaurant - Aramis and Treville**

 

 

While he waited for Aramis to arrive at the restaurant Treville allowed his mind to wander over the last few months. He was trying hard not to be nervous about how the evening would go after having been gone for so long. He’d spent very little time with Aramis in the months after his release from the hospital. It wasn’t for lack of caring, only that he was busy and Aramis’ schedule left very little time for leisure during his recovery. He’d initially been loathe to leave Paris for his month long sabbatical, but a family member was getting married and it had been a long time since he’d visited d’Artagnan’s parents in Gascony. He’d kept in contact with Athos and Porthos over Aramis’ progress and knew he was doing well but hadn’t actually spoken to the man himself.

The time off had done wonders for him, though, as Treville came back feeling refreshed and relaxed. He was happy to see that the Amadeus murder case was finally closed and archived away because to him it meant that his detectives were finally putting the past behind them. It also meant less paperwork for him, which was a bonus in any situation.

While he was gone he’d reached out to Ninon to ask her some questions about the insurance policies of the d’Herblay’s and Bessette’s.  He knew that Ninon had it all under control, but he’d wanted to hear for himself that what they’d done that night was legal. He wanted there to be no more surprises down the road if something should ever come back down on Aramis. Trust it to Ninon, though, to have all the bases already covered. Everything was handled well within the law and Ninon surprised him with how well she'd prepared for this day. She sent him a package of information to forward to Aramis when he felt the time was right. He hadn’t had the package in his possession long before he realized that he couldn’t wait for long to show it to Aramis. So tonight was going to be the night he broke the news to him. His musings were interrupted a short time later with the arrival of Aramis.

“Jean,” Aramis said with a massive smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again!”

Treville took a moment to take his first look at Aramis in a while. The man looked good. He looked healthy and happy. It seemed he’d gained most of the weight lost in March back and there was a certain sparkle in his eyes that he’d been afraid he’d never see again. Treville rose from the table and embraced Aramis, holding him tight for just long enough to be awkward.

“I missed you too,” Aramis whispered as they broke apart and sat down at their table. “How was your trip?”

The dinner with Treville was lovely and a long time in coming. The food at this restaurant was amazing and before Aramis knew it they're finished eating and were sipping at their dessert drinks. Aramis hadn’t realized how much he had come to rely on Jean as a father figure until they were too busy to see one another. They’d had plenty to speak about and it felt like old times. Towards the end of the evening, Treville cleared his throat and presented him with a large package.

"What is this?" Aramis asked nervously.

"Open it," Treville responded. "Keep an open mind over what's inside. I think you'll like it."

Aramis stared at the package for a moment longer before opening it and pulling out its contents. Inside was a stack of papers that turned out to be bank statements and a long, sprawling letter from Ninon. Aramis stared at the numbers on the bank statements, not comprehending the size of the numbers on them. There had to be some mistake, he thought.

"I don't understand," he said quietly.

Treville picked up the letter from the pile and handed to it Aramis. "Read this, it explains everything."

Aramis opened the letter gingerly and began to read what Ninon was trying to tell him. When he was done, he dropped the letter like it burned his fingertips.

"What! You're kidding me!" Aramis almost shouted. He was floored. Never in his wildest dreams... He’d not seen any of this coming. Seven years of living a comfortable, yet modest life were gone in an instant thanks to Ninon. "There must be some mistake! This was all supposed to go to Renee, not me, never me."

"I thought you'd be happier," Treville said. It was written plainly on his face that this wasn't how he'd thought Aramis was going to react. "You never have to worry about anything ever again."

Aramis shifted uncomfortably in his chair and stared wide eyed at Treville. He should’ve known that Ninon and Treville would never let certain aspects of his past lay to rest. Apparently knowing Rene was never declared dead made Treville more determined to make sure he was taken care of. But it was too much.

"What made Ninon think I needed all this money? It's supposed to be for Renee, it was always supposed to be for her. It's Adele's and my legacy to our daughter. Why would she do this?"

“It’s very simple, Aramis, the Clerbeaux’s and Bessette’s are well off,” Treville said. “They have more than enough to support your daughter for the rest of her life. Ninon had no need for the d’Herblay money so she invested it. With the help of Clarence, it’s grown into a rather sizable fortune. She’s transferred it all to you, Aramis.”

“But--”

“No buts, kid. You’re taking this, you deserve it.”

"It's... I mean..." Aramis stuttered.

"You're going to have to start accepting soon that people care about you Aramis. Ninon wants you to be taken care of as well as Renee is going to be. So accept the money and live a little." Treville said smiling.

  
  
  
  


**November 24, 2016 - Aramis and Porthos’ townhouse - Aramis and Porthos**

 

 

After dinner with Treville, Aramis had come home. He changed into sweats, tossed his hair into a sloppy ponytail and settled crossed legged in the middle of his massive bed. Aramis snorted at himself as he looked around the room of their comfortable bedroom. Everything in the room, the whole house even, had been purchased with care and a mindful eye on their budget. It wasn’t that they couldn't afford stuff, but that they were very careful with their finances. The first night Aramis slept over at Porthos’ townhouse it was obvious they’d need a larger bed than a queen sized one. Porthos slept in a starfish formation and Aramis spent most of the night being shoved to the floor. Once they’d purchased a king sized bed there was a lot more room and Aramis fit perfectly around Porthos’ starfishing.

Sighing, he pulled out all the paperwork and opened the letter to read it again. After tonight’s revelation, he hoped things wouldn’t change too much. His life with Porthos was exactly how he wanted it to remain.

It was late now, nearing midnight and Aramis was waiting up for Porthos who would be home shortly. He had considered keeping Ninon’s letter from Porthos or at least delaying telling him, but there was nothing to gain from keeping this secret. Someone would tell Porthos eventually and he’d promised he would never keep secrets from him again. Also. what was the point? There wasn’t anything he’d be able to do to convince either Treville or Ninon that he didn’t need this money, so it was better he just accept it and move on. Also, this wasn’t exactly bad news, it was just that Aramis was still trying to come to grips with the fact that he was a millionaire now... and a double-digit millionaire at that.

Aramis continued going over the bank statements until the numbers on the pages became a jumbled mess. To be honest, numbers weren’t really his thing and these statements were confusing to him. Interest, stock numbers, high-risk investments… bleh. The only number that he recognized to be worth anything was the closing balance on the statement. It had lots of pretty zeros on it. He’d give them to Porthos and the man could analyze it and tell him what Ninon and Clarence had done.

He was so focussed on reading Ninon’s letter again, that he failed to notice Porthos leaning against the doorframe of their room. He startled visibly, dropping the letter and scrambled off the bed to hug him.

“I missed you,” Aramis said, burying his face in Porthos’ chest. “This has been a long, trying day.”

Porthos instantly went still. Of all the things he’d expected coming home so late, Aramis awake and agitated wasn’t one of them. Aramis had an early shift the next morning and staying up late just to see him wasn’t a good idea. “Why are you up, love? You have to work so early tomorrow morning, you’re going to be exhausted.”

“I couldn’t sleep, I have something to show you,” Aramis responded. He extricated himself from Porthos’ arms and walked to the bed to pick up a letter and a bundle of papers.

Aramis handed them to him and then padded across the carpet to sit back down in the centre of the bed. He stared at Porthos waiting for him to begin. With a nervous gulp, Porthos opened the letter, not entirely sure he wanted to know what was going on. As he read Ninon’s words he became more and more pleased. Finally, someone was doing something good for Aramis.

“How much?” Porthos asked once he’d finished reading the letter.

“A whole hell of a lot,” Aramis responded. “Look at the pile of papers, that last line, the closing balance.”

Porthos flipped to the last page of the bank statements and whistled at the number listed. “So you are rich, very, very rich.”

“Correction, we are. You are as much a part of this as I am. So yes, we are very, very rich. Filthy, even,” Aramis smiled. He finally relaxed as the weight of the evening's shock fell from his shoulders. Porthos didn’t seem to be angry. In fact, the man had gotten up and walked to the other side of the room and took off his jacket, tossing it on the chair.

“I like that word,” Porthos said.

“What word?”

Porthos dropped the papers to the floor and looked up at Aramis. “Filthy. I like that word a lot and for so many reasons.”

Porthos stalked towards Aramis slowly, his face transforming from shock to a filthy, for lack of a better word, grin that would make Aramis’ knees wobble if he wasn’t already sitting on the bed.

“I’m… uhhh,” Aramis squeaked, unable to form the words. “Why…”

“It’s such an extensive word, filthy… like the extensive and filthy things I like doing to you.” Porthos hopped onto the bed and crawled towards Aramis, grinning when he squeaked again.

“P-perhaps you s--should show me your definition of filthy…” Aramis stuttered.

Porthos growled, “call into work tomorrow. You’ll be in no condition to function.” He settled on top of Aramis and pressed the man down into the comforter, swallowing his whimper as he crashed their lips together.

 


	33. December 1, 2016 - D’Artagnan’s house - Constance and d’Artagnan

 

**December 1, 2016 - D’Artagnan’s house - Constance and d’Artagnan**

  


TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

“Arrrghhhh! Is the clock ticking extra loud tonight?” D’Artagnan shouted from across the room. He sat down heavily in the chair in the corner of his room, sighing in frustration.

“What time is it? How many minutes left?” Constance asked. She was pacing back and forth in front of the bed, wringing her hands, waiting for the required five minutes to end.

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

D’Artagnan picked up the clock from the small table beside the chair and shook it. “I don’t know, are you sure you set this clock right? It feels like it’s running slow… or stupidly loud.”

BBBRRRRRRRRRIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG

D’Artagnan shouted as the clock in his hands began ringing, scaring the living daylights out of him. He flung the clock across the room, startling Constance as it shattered at her feet.

“What the hell, d’Artagnan,” Constance cried. “This isn’t the time for being childish.” She glanced at her watch and raced across the room into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

This was the most nerve-wracking thing he’d ever experienced in his life. D’Artagnan was sure that no other man had ever gone through something like this. Could he do this? What if he was no good at it? He got up from the chair and taking over for Constance, began pacing back and forth in front of the bed. D'Artagnan had made three full pacing rotations when his brain caught up with the situation at hand. His worry for Constance increased as he realized she was awfully quiet in that bathroom.

“Constance,” he asked. He walked to the bathroom door and tapped it with his knuckles. “Is… Is everything alright in there? Wait… do I hear crying, are you crying?”

He rapped on the door one more time before he heard her muffled response. “I’m fine, Charles, give me a minute. I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” d’Artagnan responded. “Wait, Charles? You never call me Charles, now I'm  even more worried… Constance, please come out, whatever happens, we are in this together.”

There was some rustling on the other side of the door before it opened and emitted Constance. She was beautiful, even now with mussed up hair and tear-stained cheeks. D’Artagnan would never get over seeing her for the first time as she walked into a room. Even if it had been five seconds since he last saw her she still took his breath away. He pulled her into his arms, his heart fluttering at her distress.

“Oh Constance," he whispered as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Whatever it says, love, we’ll deal with it. Judging by your reaction it’s the opposite of what we wanted, so just know that we will weather this together. We can try again and again, as many times as it takes to get the result we want.”

Constance frowned and pulled out of d’Artagnan’s arms. “What are you talking about?” She asked. She pulled her hand out from behind her back and revealed what she was holding.

“Does it have... I mean is there--” He stuttered.

“Two lines, yes,” she finished for him.

They stood mere feet apart staring at the thin white stick in her hands.

“You’re… I’m… We are…”

“Going to have a baby, yes!” Constance smiled.

“Yes!” D’Artagnan cried. He picked her up and spun her around in a circle as she shrieked. “This is the best day ever!”

The broken clock chose that very moment to die in one last, long, wailing alarm, making the two pause.

"Poor clock," Constance laughed. "It didn't deserve your assault, it was only doing its job."

"Do you think we'll do a good job?" D'Artagnan asked Constance. He went over to the clock and began picking up the pieces to throw in the garbage. "Be good parents to him?"

Constance's eyes softened at his question. "We'll be the best parents, just you wait and see. But I think it's going to be a she."

D'Artagnan tossed the remainder of the clock onto the bed and went back to Constance. He took her into his arms and smiled. "I'd be okay with a girl too. Oh, Constance, you've made me the happiest man in the world."

"And you've made me the happiest girl," she giggled in his arms.

  
  


**December 12, 2016 - Animal Shelter - Aramis and d’Artagnan**

  


“Porthos is not going to be pleased with you,” d’Artagnan stated.

He straightened from his crouch and cross his arms, staring down at Aramis. The man was on the ground of the local animal shelter, playing with a litter of kittens. The kittens were all meowing and crawling up and down Aramis’ shoulders, sitting on his head and in his lap. Aramis was laughing and scratching their bellies.

“But d’Artagnan,” Aramis pouted. “Porthos’ puppy is so lonely at the house all by himself and needs a friend. Porthos got his dog and I should get to have this petite, fluffball of a cat.”

“What about this one? It says she’s a Persian cat.” He held up exactly what he described, a white fluffball of a kitten with ice blue eyes. She blinked and mewed, struggling to get out of Aramis’ hold. “This cat feels familiar to me.”

“How so?”

Aramis shrugged and turned her around to face him. “No clue. I feel like she’d be too ornery, though, look how, even now, she doesn’t want to be held. I want a mild tempered cat that loves everyone.”

D’Artagnan shook his head at Aramis. They’d be here for ages if Aramis kept going on this way. “How is it having a puppy in the house?”

“It’s okay, he’s a lot of work and Porthos has been doing most of it.  I get the feeling he’s a little frustrated over how slow the puppy training is going, but Babs is just a baby still. We’ll get there, just might not be anytime soon.”

“Babs?” D’artagnan was confused, what the heck kind of name was Babs for a dog?

Aramis sighed dramatically. “Renee is the one that named the dog.  She insisted the dog's name be Rainbow Bubbles. She has Porthos wrapped around her little finger, he indulges her so much.”

D’Artagnan snorted, then started giggling until he was laughing so hard he had to bend over and hold his stomach.

“Yeah I know,” Aramis continued once d’Artagnan had dried his tears from crying so hard. “Of course Porthos agreed immediately. I managed to convince her to just go with Bubbles. Thank goodness he’s shortened it to Babs. Bubbles… who names their animal that? What about that sweet thing?”

D’Artagnan frowned as he felt tiny little claws sink into his pant leg. There was a midnight black kitten clawing its way up the side of him. He reached down and plucked the cat off his leg and cradled her in his arms. “This one is pretty adorable. You tend to be a bit superstitious, though, are you going to be able to handle this thing crossing your path on daily basis?”

“Fair enough,” Aramis agreed. “Not that one either. Hmmm”

Aramis kept picking up kittens, weighing the pros and cons until his eyes caught a particularly vibrant one huddled near the back of the kennel. He stood up, walked over to the kitten and coaxed the shy, little thing out of the corner. When he turned around d’Artagnan saw that he was holding the brightest orange kitten he’d ever seen. The cat in his arms licked Aramis' finger and began purring quite loud.

“I want this one. I shall call her Lady Marmalade.”

“Really, Aramis, how do you even know it's a female cat?” D’Artagnan laughed.

Aramis gently flipped the cat on it's back, frowned and then righted the kitten. "Sir Marmalade, then."

"That's a horrible name for a cat," d'Artagnan exclaimed. "It's worse than Babs."

"Eh, it's a work in progress," Aramis responded as batted at the kitten's paws playfully.

“Honestly, what’s Porthos going to think?”

Aramis shrugged and handed d’Artagnan the cat so he could usher the other kittens back into the main kennel. “He’ll be fine. He told me to go out and spend some of my money and indulge myself.”

“I don’t think this is quite what he meant when he said treat yourself for once. I can’t argue, though, that you deserve something for yourself,” d’Artagnan agreed. “It’s good to see you happy again Aramis. It’s been a rough journey getting to this point, hasn’t it?”

Aramis didn’t say anything, he just smiled and turned slightly red in the cheeks. He pulled the kitten out of d’Artagnan’s arms and went to the front of the animal shelter to make his purchase. D’Artagnan lingered behind for a moment lost in thought. He was forgetting something. He suddenly realized the whole reason he followed Aramis out today was to tell his friend about him and Constance.

Oh well, another day. This was Aramis’ self-indulgence day. If today started out with acquiring a cat, there was no telling what Aramis had planned for the rest of it. His news could wait.

  
  


**December 20, 2016 - The Airport - Athos and Aramis**

  


“Thanks for coming with me to meet Raoul,” Athos said to Aramis.

They were at the airport, awaiting Athos’ son’s flight from Vancouver to Paris. Athos was nervous, more nervous than the previous time Raoul had come to visit. The last visit hadn’t gone well and not in a _‘they hated each other with a fiery passion’_ kind of way. It was more of an _‘I’m 18, you aren’t my legal parent and you can’t tell me what to do kind of way'._ Not that Athos had set out to be the person in Raoul’s life that told the kid what to do, but he felt responsible for keeping him out of trouble while he was here. He felt he owed it to Raoul’s parents, considering they were allowing their child to get to know his real father.

“You never did say how Raoul’s visit was a few weeks ago,” Aramis said in a muffled voice.

It had been sunny most of the day today, but now, nearing late evening, it was cloudy and getting chilly. Despite it being three degrees out, Aramis, his cold-despising friend, was well wrapped and nearly unrecognizable under the layers. With the hat and dark curls covering his eyes, Athos could just see a hint of a nose peeking above the scarf.

“Good, God, man!” Athos exclaimed. He turned to his friend and unwrapped the scarf from his neck and pulled the hat off his head. “We are inside this sweltering hot airport and you are wearing all that?”

“I’m cold… I don’t feel well,” Aramis responded.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” he asked after a feverish Aramis was revealed. Athos was a bit alarmed at Aramis’ admission of not feeling well. He felt guilty immediately for dragging his friend out to the airport for this.

Aramis shrugged as if Athos was asking him the silliest thing in the world. “You needed me.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve done this alone if you weren’t feeling well. Does Porthos know? He’s going to murder me for dragging you out here.”

“Why is everyone so afraid of Porthos and why does everyone treat me like a child that can’t make his own choices?” Aramis asked, clearly upset.

Again, Athos’ guilt flared. It was true that they all kept Aramis on a shorter leash than normal, but he hadn’t meant to make his friend frustrated about it. Athos felt like they were doing a great job walking the fine line between being overbearing and over cautious. He, however, had just barrelled over that line and straight into his friend. Athos paused for a moment trying to find the words to explain so that he didn’t insult Aramis any further.

“Look, Aramis,” he began. “It’s isn’t so much that we don’t trust you nor do we think you incapable of looking after yourself. Though, making the choice to come to the airport while sick isn’t one of your shining moments. Porthos was a bear to deal with while you were missing. While he’s getting better, he still feels a deep-seated need to take care of you and know where you are all the time. He’s very protective of you and do you blame him?”

Aramis sniffled and hung his head. “No,” he whispered. “It wasn’t a good idea to come out here today, I’ll give you that, but you seemed like you needed someone with you. You shouldn't have to do this alone.”

Athos pulled Aramis into his arms and held him for a moment before handing the man back his scarf and hat. “What would I do without you? Let’s just retrieve Raoul and then we will take you straight home.”

Nodding Aramis took his things and sighed. “You never answered my question earlier, how was your previous visit with Raoul?”

“It was okay, he’s a remarkable young man. He’s got a bright future ahead of him, his parents raised him very well,” Athos responded. He turned away from Aramis to look up at the flight information, happy to see that Raoul’s plane would be here soon.

“Well, then I don’t understand why you needed me to be here.”

“I tried to hard the first time,” Athos explained. He glanced back at Aramis to see him shivering where he stood and pulled him in closer to offer body heat. “I tried to be his father and I haven’t earned that right yet if that makes sense? Things have been tense between us since and I admit I’ve been worried he’s not on that plane. That he’d change his mind and not come.”

“Oh Athos, he’s an eighteen-year-old boy, he’s hardwired to fight against rules. It’s like their _thing_. I’d be more worried if he was this perfect kid.” Aramis said. “Having him here isn’t going to be all sunshine and roses, you two will fight and get angry with one another. He’s going to break rules and you will overstep the boundaries, but you’ll find it’s going to be the single most rewarding thing you’ve done in your life. He’s your son and he wants to get to know you as much as you want to know him.”

Athos blushed furiously at his friend’s words but nodded his understanding. He knew Aramis was right, but until Raoul walked off that plane he was going to worry. Deciding they needed a change in subject, he asked Aramis about his daughter. He knew Ninon and Aramis were speaking several times a week with the little girl, but he hadn't heard how it was going. Aramis brightened considerably at the request, which made Athos grateful he asked.

“Renee is wonderful!” Aramis exclaimed. “At first she had a ton of questions, I felt like I was in one of your interrogation rooms. I was so nervous, Athos, that I stuttered my way through the whole video chat. Porthos had to rescue me and Renee took one glance at my boyfriend and demanded he be included in most of the calls now. Those two are like partners in crime and they gang up on me all the time.”

“That’s amazing news Aramis!” Athos said. He was so happy for his friend. It had been a long time since his friend had been this animated.

“She’s this little version of Adele, talks a mile a minute and hardly allows me a moment’s pause. She loves everything a little girl would like, up to, and including the colour pink. She says if she could wear pink everyday for the rest of her life, she would. I can hardly believe that God allowed me this wonder of a girl to be my daughter. That I get to know her and have her be a part of my life is… it’s--” Aramis broke off with another sniffle, this time not caused by the cold he had. “It’s more than I could ever have expected.”

Suddenly, a voice over the intercom interrupted their conversation and announced the arrival of Raoul’s flight. Any moment, Athos thought, his son would be walking through those doors. He was hoping he’d have a chance to get to know his own son in the same manner that Aramis was knowing his daughter.

“Is that him?” Aramis whispered in a voice that was increasing in its hoarseness.

Athos turned around to see Raoul walking off the plane, carry on rolling behind him, with a large grin on his face.

“Father!” Raoul said. The kid walked to Athos and pulled him into a giant bear hug. “Is that Aramis behind you? Father talks a lot about you and his friends. You look exactly like he described, only maybe more sick.”

Aramis nodded wearily but smiled. “Athos doesn’t shut up about you either. Let your father get your luggage and in the meantime, you can tell me all about yourself. Then you guys can take me home."

As they walked towards the baggage retrieval Athos smiled to himself as Aramis asked all sorts of questions of Raoul. He was glad that he'd brought Aramis along, even if the man was ill. He didn't know what the future held for him and Raoul, but he was looking forward to finding out.

  


**December 31, 2016 - Athos’ house - Everyone**

 

This felt good, Aramis thought to himself as he settled on the sofa in Athos’ living room, a glass of wine in hand. It felt good to be with his friends, _no his family_ , to ring in the new year. Everyone was scattered around the room, waiting for the countdown to midnight, sharing the news with one another. Even though they'd heard one way or another about what was happening, it was nice to share it in person. Constance and d’Artagnan were going to have a baby, Athos and Raoul were getting along well and he and Porthos were engaged.  Sitting here watching his friends laugh and joke over the silliest of things felt like food for his soul. He couldn't be any happier than he was at this very moment.

Aramis had spoken to his daughter earlier that day. He'd enjoyed every moment as she regaled him with all the treats she received for Christmas. Her favourite being the promise of a visit from him in a few months. Porthos' Christmas present to him was tickets to Hawaii for Renee's eighth birthday. Aramis knew it Porthos' way of trying to create new, happy memories of that time of year, instead of sad memories.

He felt the couch dip slightly, as Constance sat down beside him with a sigh, a glass of water in her hand. "This being pregnant on New Year's Eve sucks."

Aramis smiled at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. "You're not fooling me, you're very happy to be pregnant and don't mind sticking to water."

“Of course you're right," Constance responded. "You look happy. More at ease than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

“I am,” Aramis replied. “There isn’t another group of people I would rather spend the last minutes of 2016 with.”

Constance sighed happily. "We all feel the same way too, Aramis."

"I do wish that I'd told you all about my past earlier instead of having to put everyone through hell this year. I'm happy that it all came out into the open, though, it's changed my life for the better." Aramis said.

"If there is one good thing that came as a result of all this, it was that everyone seems to be closer now than we were before. Does that make sense?" She asked.

Aramis glanced sideways at Constance before letting his eyes sweep across the room. Treville was standing with Raoul, showing him something on his phone, looking like a proud Grandfather. Athos was standing near the bar, mixing a drink and watching his son, fondly. Porthos was clapping d'Artagnan on the back, proud of his little brother becoming a Dad. There was a closeness between them now, a sense of family that hadn't really existed before. They'd seen Aramis at his worst and chose to stay with him instead of running away which made him eternally grateful. He had no clue what the future held for them, but they were ending 2016 on a strong note and carrying it into the new year. 2017 was going to be one of their best years yet, of that he had no doubt.

"It makes perfect sense," Aramis said smiling. “Absolute, perfect sense.”


	34. March 22, 2017 - Savoy Catholic church grounds - Aramis and Porthos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!! It's finally done! *dances*
> 
> This took me just over a year and a half to write. I started it on our family trip to Hawaii to celebrate my husband's and my 10th wedding anniversary and never expected it to become this giant beast of a story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented, followed and kudos'd this story. It means the absolute world to me that you all liked it so much. 
> 
> Thanks to CanadianGarrison and Vera d'Auriac for reading this and offering endless advice.  
> Thanks, Knights-and-Musketeers and "Me" for suffering through my random ideas and asking for advice, only for me to not use it :)  
> Thanks to Ihadenoughofthis for everything... for loving everything I wrote even if I'd send you a chapter and then change the entire thing.  
> Thanks to Tazzyjan who is pretty much my beta on this. This story is only good because she made me re-write and flesh out scenes and add more.

**March 22, 2017 - Savoy Catholic church grounds - Aramis and Porthos**

  


“Look Porthos, there are daffodils growing all over Marsac’s grave,” Aramis said.

He pulled away from Porthos to walk to the small plot of daffodils making their home on his friend's grave. Aramis touched one of the flowers, lightly caressing the velvet petal. The daffodil that meant new birth and new beginnings was Adele’s favourite flower. In bunches, it was said to bring good tidings but a _single_ bloom given to someone meant misfortune. Aramis remembered how horrified he was when he learned about the misfortune. He'd worn only one single daffodil on the lapel of his tux the day he married Adele. That memory frightened him so bad that he’d stayed away from the daffodil for years out of superstition. But this, he thought as he gazed over his friend’s grave, this was fitting. It felt like Adele was watching over his friend. It felt like a message from her, a blessing for his future and a gesture of love.

Gazing past Marsac’s grave he took in the entire area, the memorial the town of Savoy created was beautiful. A small grove of trees behind the church afforded the place some privacy. It was truly a fitting tribute and a serene resting place for those lost in the Savoy fire massacre. Aramis especially loved the inscription on the stone for Rene and Adele’s joined grave. Father Thomas promised that he would change the names and remove Rene off of it, but Aramis asked him not to. Even though he was both Aramis and Rene now, _Adele’s_ Rene died that night alongside her and he wanted it to remain that way. This way there would always be a part of him that was near her, watching over her and keeping her safe. Goodness knows, even after eight years, he still missed her so much it hurt. He was thankful that Porthos understood that he would always be intertwined with Adele as much as he was connected to Porthos. Adele represented his past and all that went with it, but Porthos was his future.

“You ready?” Porthos asked, coming to stand behind him.

Aramis felt Porthos rest his hands on his shoulders in support. He wiped away tears he hadn’t known were falling down his cheeks. He took another long look at the grave-site before standing up and turning to face Porthos. “Thank you for bringing me here. This… this day was wonderful.”

“Well, it’s not over yet. Come, I have some things for you,” Porthos said.

Aramis allowed Porthos to guide him down to a pathway between the trees behind where the church would be. As they walked he thought over the last few days. Porthos had insisted they come to Savoy to watch as they broke ground for a new church. Initially, Aramis had no desire to ever step foot in this place again. Yet, after encouragement from Porthos and a conveniently timed call from Father Thomas, Aramis gave in. He was nervous and clumsy with fright the entire trip down, but Porthos was amazing and patient with him.

Much to Aramis’ surprise, it actually felt good to be in Savoy again. While so many things had changed in eight years, there was a sense of familiarity, a sense that he’d come home. They spent the day visiting all the old places Aramis spent time at, finally ending up here. The visit to the church was the last leg of their adventures for today. They were surprised to meet Father Thomas taking a walk around the grounds. After a fierce hug, Father Thomas made sure Aramis knew there was no anger towards him for Victor and Isabelle. It eased something in Aramis’ heart to hear that he wasn’t to blame for the building’s burning down. He hadn't known he still blamed himself for the loss of both churches until he'd seen the priest.

Father Thomas walked with them around the grounds as both Porthos and Aramis told their stories. They were both surprised to hear that Lemay donated every bit of the money to rebuild the church. Then Father Thomas had shown Aramis the amazing plans the architect had come up with for the new building. There was floor to ceiling stained glass windows and tons of exits. Most importantly, though, the structure was going to be mostly made of steel and concrete. It made Aramis breathe a sigh of relief, maybe for the first time, this Church wouldn’t go up in flames.

As they rounded the last corner of the path in the trees they came upon the lake. Aramis chose this moment to finally look where Porthos was leading him. "Oh, the bench where Marsac brought me," Aramis exclaimed. "I forgot about this place."

"Marsac made me promise I would bring you here," Porthos responded. "He said it was the last place he saw you happy before all hell broke loose."

Porthos led Aramis right up to the bench and motioned for him to sit while he pulled something out from behind it. It was good that they’d come to visit Savoy, there was an ease to Aramis that he hadn’t seen in a long time. If he was being truly honest with himself, it was an ease that maybe he’d never even seen before. Either way, he was grateful that they’d embarked on this journey together as it was giving them both closure.

Aramis still struggled with nightmares, though they were fewer and far between. He was worried that being here in Savoy would bring back memories and start the nightmares again, but he'd deal with those if they came. So far everything seemed to be going just fine. Porthos was so proud of Aramis’ progress this past year. His boyfriend was more present and living in the here and now, instead of hiding the shadows of his past. It was why he figured now was as good of a time as any to give him the bag full of items Athos retrieved from evidence. Most of it was pictures and a few personal effects that were salvaged. They’d recovered Adele’s wedding band and engagement ring and Ninon’s letter. Of all the things in that bag, though, it was the object at the bottom that Porthos most wanted Aramis to see.

“Well go on,” Aramis interrupted his thoughts. “What do you have for me?”

Porthos picked up the cloth bag and handed it to Aramis. “I wanted to wait until you were feeling better and then I sort of forgot about it,” he said. His nerves were getting the better of him. He ran a hand through his hair and watched as Aramis glanced into the bag.

“What…Porthos, how?” Aramis gasped. He brought out the pictures and letters Athos salvaged from his scrapbook, bringing them to his chest in a hug. “I thought these were forever lost to evidence. Thank you. I realize that it’s silly to have wished for some of this stuff back, or to keep pictures of my dead wife on our wedding day. I don’t mean to make you think she meant more than you do, or that I want them displayed all over our house. You aren’t mad right Porthos?”

Porthos laughed at Aramis’ adorable rambling. He covered Aramis’ lips with his finger, shushing the man before he could get worked up. “No, love, I don’t think any of that. I'd would be honored to have a picture of Adele around the house. She led you to me and I will be forever grateful for that. Now stop worrying and look at the last thing in there.”

At the bottom of the bag there was a blanket which Aramis could see was quite colourful. He stood up from the bench and pulled it out, letting it fall apart from its folds. The hem of the blanket tickled the ground even as Aramis held it up above his shoulders. It was larger than he’d thought it would be. It had the kind of beautiful stitching that could only come from a homemade quilt. The top edge that he was holding had several loops across it as if it was more of a tapestry blanket for display.

Why would Porthos give him this? He didn’t understand the significance of the blanket, he'd never seen it before. Frowning he turned to Porthos for an explanation.

Porthos also frowned, he’d thought this would go better than it was. He figured Aramis would be happier than this… suddenly, a light clicked on in Porthos’ head. Of course this was confusing Aramis, the man wasn't in his right mind when he'd rescued him. Aramis wouldn't even remember the tapestry blanket he’d pulled off the walls of the church to wrap him in. The blanket vanished in the mess of the rescue and the later recovery. It wasn’t until Athos had given it to him at the precinct that Porthos even remembered borrowing it. He’d called Father Thomas in the days after recovering the tapestry, but the priest insisted it go to Rene. After all, the man said, a parishioner made it in remembrance of the victims. What would be better than one of the victims receiving the blanket made for them?

“I used it to carry you,” Porthos said, his voice shaking. The memory of that day and the panic he’d felt came rushing back at him. He took a moment to brush off those negative feelings before continuing. “When I found you at the church after Isabelle poisoned you, you were shivering and yet so hot. You were dying, in fact, you did die for a moment outside. I needed something to cover you in and pulled that off the wall of the church. Turn it around Aramis, you’ll understand why Father Thomas wanted you to keep it and why Athos and I saved it for you.”

Aramis nodded, turned the tapestry around and almost dropped it when he saw what was on the other side. His family’s faces were somehow sewed into the little squares that formed the quilt. His Mama, Papa, grandparents, himself and his siblings. Whatever he'd expected when he saw the other side, it wasn't this. Never this.

Faces he never thought he'd ever see again smiled back at him. All thoughts in his brain halted, his throat ached and tears prickled at his eyes.  Aramis took in a painful breath and fell into Porthos’ arms with a sob, still clutching the blanket.

"Thank you," he cried. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you for this. There is nothing in this world I think I could ever do to pay you back for this. For everything, really."

Porthos lifted Aramis' chin so he could look directly into the man's eyes. "I never did any of this expecting you to pay me back. Though, there is one thing I want more than anything in this world."

"Anything, Porthos! If it is within my means I would give you everything you ever wanted."

"Marry me in Hawaii. Marry me outdoors on the beach, with Renee and Ninon watching. We'll bring Athos, Treville, d'Artagnan and Constance there too. Our family should be there to watch us."

Aramis' eyes lit up with joy. "You're serious? Of course, you are. Okay then, let's do this! Let's get married next month!"

Porthos whooped for joy and pulled him back in for a hug so tight that Aramis thought his eyes would pop out.

"You make me so happy," Porthos said and when he eased up on the hug, he pressed a tender kiss to Aramis' lips, relishing the tiny moan the man made.

“Papa!” A tiny, yet familiar voice shouted suddenly.

Aramis froze. _No... It couldn’t be._ He pulled out of Porthos’ arms and spun around to see Renee running towards him, her red hair flying in the wind. Ninon was behind her, laughing, as she followed her daughter down the path to the lake. Aramis’ heart fluttered. He looked to Porthos, but the man seemed just as shocked to see Ninon and Renee as he was.

“Is this real?” Aramis whispered.

His daughter was here in the flesh. He could hold her, hug her for as long as he wanted. Aramis couldn’t find the words… she was beautiful. It was one thing to see her on a computer screen or digital photo, but in person she was everything he and Adele could ever have dreamed of. He knelt down on the ground and opened his arms, barely restraining himself from falling apart for the second time that day. The force of her barreling into him for a hug was enough to topple them both over and onto the ground.

“Papa, are you surprised to see me?” Renee asked. “I can’t wait until you come visit me for my birthday!’

“Yes, my girl, you’ve surprised me!”

“Is that why you’re crying?” She asked him.

“It’s just so good to have you here, come let's get off the ground and then you can tell me all about the trip here. Also, I have news about Porthos and me.” Aramis said. He sat up and held out his hand for Renee to pull him up with.

“Papa! You’re too heavy,” she giggled.

Porthos let the conversation between father and daughter fade into the background as Ninon came to stand beside him.

“I didn’t think you would come,” Porthos said to her. They were both watching Aramis and Renee walk hand in hand down the edge of the lake. “I hoped you would when I told you we’d be here. I wanted something happy to happen in this place so that he wouldn’t always associate it with sadness.”

Ninon smiled and looped her arm through Porthos’. “It was about time they met in person and it was time I came back here to face my demons as well. I had it easier than Aramis did. I had a little girl to raise and she gave me the desire to live for something. Aramis had none of that… I think I will regret that we stayed apart for eight years for the rest of my life.”

Porthos nodded, “I’m sure Aramis will regret not knowing his daughter too. You being here with Renee today will go a long way in alleviating that guilt in both of you.”

“I think you’re right,” Ninon agreed, smiling. “ _This_ feels right.”

Porthos grinned, staring at the joy radiating off Aramis’ face. “Yes, finally I think all is right for him. Let’s go catch up, I want to meet my future step daughter!”

 

The End


End file.
